


The Medium Between

by ASmallVoice



Series: The Medium Between [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Batfamily Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Human Experimentation, Human Trafficking, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kidnapping, Minor Character Death, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-20 06:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 83,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8239160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASmallVoice/pseuds/ASmallVoice
Summary: "It was a stupid bet, they both knew it when they made it, but that had not stopped them." After losing a bet both participants wanted him to win, Dick struggles to adjust to his new situation as his family and friends desperately search for the missing boy. As time passes, all he can wonder is why and if he and his new friends will ever be found.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Young Justice and Batman characters belong to DC comics which is owned by Time Warner Brothers.  
> The Medium Between is being cross-posted from fanfiction.net and the sequel and any deleted scenes will be posted there first under A Small Voice.

Prologue

It was a stupid bet. They both knew it when they made it, but that had not stopped them.

Not long after a particularly brutal kidnapping, Dick was in recovery at Wayne Manor when Wally came to visit. Proving that he was perfectly capable of being asterous even when incredibly injured, Dick stole Wally’s goggles and painted little robins in permanent ink on the straps. Dick wanted to keep them, but Wally wanted them back. It had been Wally who proposed the bet, partly out of jest and partly out of worry for his friend’s current condition.

“Fine. You can keep them if you don’t get kidnapped for three months starting now.”

Dick was silent for a second. “In civvies or in costume?”

“Either.”

Dick pondered it for a minute during which Wally disappeared to grab some cookies, returned, and ate all said cookies except for two, which he gave to Dick. On the one hand, whether or not he got kidnapped and, thus, the bet was entirely out of his control. On the other hand, it was a relatively simple bet.

“Deal,” Dick said. “But, if the majority of the team is captured as well, it doesn’t count. Also, no friendly kidnappings count.”

“Friendly kidnappings?” Wally asked.

“Like if you or Roy or someone kidnapped me to go somewhere fun like Six Flags, or to spend time with me. That doesn’t count,” Dick paused for a second, considering any other conditions to set or loopholes to close. Finding none, he questioned, “What do you want if you win?”

“The new Xbox 720!” Wally said, “And my goggles back.”

“That’s fair. A pair of goggles for an Xbox. That totally makes sense.”

“Those are high tech goggles, and your dad’s a billionaire. An Xbox is nothing.” Wally crossed his arms.

“He’s not my dad,” Dick replied automatically.

“Deal or no deal?”

Dick huffed, “Deal. I don’t get kidnapped for three months, 90 days, starting now, excluding friendly kidnappings and most of the team kidnappings, and I keep the goggles. If I do get kidnapped, you get an Xbox 720 and your goggles back.”

They shook on it.

A stupid bet, one that they both blatantly hoped Dick would win.

A stupid bet, one that had a definite conclusion, which pushed the limits of that outcome to the end.

A stupid bet. Dick thought with a groan as he leaned his head back against the side of the cold, metal box when the ship tilted to the side once again. He shivered, and pulled the blanket as tight as he could around his shoulders with handcuffed hands. How did it go so wrong?


	2. Almost

Chapter 1: Almost

Dick remembered when Bruce found out about the bet. The Joker had escaped from Arkham and Batman was going after him. Rumor had it that the escape had been violent with ten guards killed and six others seriously injured. It left Robin wondering how Arkham continued to be able to hire guards. Who wants a job where they are almost guaranteed injury or death whenever one of the prisoners decided to leave?

Anyhow, the violence of the escape was not what had Bruce unsettled. Rather, it was the rumor that, before escaping, the Joker spoke of the need to spear the bird. Afraid that the Joker would kill Robin on sight, Batman wanted Robin to stay home. Of course, rather than explaining this logic, he simply said, “No,” when Robin came out ready to go, minus the mask.

“What? Why not?” Robin had asked.

“Because I said so.”

“That’s not a reason!” He shouted, indignant, “I’ve fought the Joker before.”

“No.”

“What Master Bruce truly means,” Alfred interrupted before the argument could reach its crux and lead to Robin, who would invariably lose, storming away and potentially sneaking out later, and being in even more danger than if he had just gone with Batman—it had happened before. “Is that he does not want you to get hurt or kidnapped by the Joker when he is more focused on killing you instantly if he were to get his hands on you, instead of using you as bait to get Batman’s attention. While the other side is also not wanted, it is more preferable than your death.” He assessed.

Robin paused, and the two turned to look at the interfering butler. Alfred met Robin’s gaze and raised an eyebrow. Robin looked at Alfred, looked at Batman, looked back to Alfred, and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. It was a valid argument. Besides, this was probably a situation that could make him lose the bet anyhow and he had no intention of losing. He sighed.

“Fine,” Robin said, and stomped to the changing area.

“Make sure he doesn’t leave, Alfred,” Batman muttered once Robin was out of earshot.

“I have no intention of allowing such a thing to pass, Master Bruce,” Alfred stated.

Hours later, when Batman returned from capturing the Joker with many cuts and bruises, he was surprised to learn that, not only had Robin remained home, but he did not try to leave either, not once. Instead, he had spent the night with Jason and the two had a movie marathon before going to sleep.

“It’s rather odd, Master Bruce. Perhaps you should speak with him. He has been more cautious these last few weeks.” Alfred said while Batman changed to Bruce. “He’s in his room, pretending to sleep. I believe he was waiting for you to return.”

Dick had, in fact, been faking sleep when Alfred had come up to check on him, but sometime between Alfred leaving and Batman returning, he had slipped into real slumber. When Bruce came up to check on him, he found Dick in a deep sleep, although fidgeting slightly. Bruce searched for the reason, and found that Peanut had fallen on the floor. Placing the toy in Dick’s arms, the boy instantly calmed.

Bruce smiled slightly, and patted Dick gently. As he moved to get up, he noticed there was a sticky notepad next to Dick’s bed with the number 63 written on top. Finding it odd, he picked up the pad and looked at the note under it. 62. He flipped through the entire thing and realized it was a countdown. A countdown to what exactly? Heart sinking, he looked at his son’s peaceful face, then at the notepad before him. His face hardened. He would figure out what the countdown meant.

But first, better make sure the other little rascal was in bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce confronted Dick the next morning, and he explained the bet with Wally and how he was counting down until it was over. Although he was relieved that the countdown was not for something sinister, Bruce called Barry to send Wally over and gave the two teens a stern talking to about making bets like that.

However, he did not tell the two to call off the bet. Instead, he cashed in with Dick. If Dick won, he said, he would buy Wally a new pair of goggles to replace the ones Dick would keep. They knew he wanted Dick to win as much as anyone else. Bruce felt that the second the bet was off, Dick would start taking more risks again. He didn’t want to argue with his son about missions that he felt were too dangerous, and the bet provided the perfect excuse.

Bruce wondered if he could get them to extend it. Six months without a kidnapping would be nice. Maybe a year would be a good amount of time for the bet. Longer worked, too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The last day of the bet was a Thursday. School was out for the day, and Dick and Artemis—she still didn’t know he was Robin—were heading over to Artemis’s house for a tutoring session. While Dick was a year below Artemis in school, they were in the same Calculus class due to Dick’s genius and mathlete status. Artemis wasn’t doing too hot, as Calculus was her worst subject, so the teacher had suggested a tutor. That tutor was Dick, who enjoyed their sessions for the amount of trolling he was able to get in. Honestly, he was kind of surprised that Artemis hadn’t figured it out yet. He wasn’t that discreet. Hmm… Guess Bruce was right with his secret identity tips after all.

Dick couldn’t wait to see Artemis’s face when she figured it out. He predicted it would be somewhere between indignation, outrage, and shock. There was another bet about that. Both he and Wally thought she would figure it out on her own; there were ample opportunities and hints, and they knew she couldn’t remain oblivious forever, no matter what Bruce wanted.

Dick had predicted she’d insult him, something along the lines of “you little troll!” Wally thought she’d be so far in shock she wouldn’t know what to say, would probably wait a few days to be sure, before quietly hinting to Dick that she knew by using a Robin reference. Roy personally believed she’d never figure it out, but he cashed in on the bet anyways, saying she would need to be told and would be more upset by the fact that Bruce Wayne was Batman.

Dick walked with a spring in his step, while fingering the goggles he was hiding in his pocket. He and Wally had decided the week before that the bet would end at 5:23 pm today because that was the time at which it had been made. He checked his watch again. 5:11. 12 minutes to go. He had made it. Three months with no kidnappings. Wally joked that it was a new record. Although…. there had been a couple close calls as Robin, but he had played it safe and avoided situations that almost guaranteed a kidnapping.

Dick and Wally were planning to go celebrate after the tutoring session. Flash and Batman had oh so graciously given the two boys the night as well as the next day off, and the two were planning to go to an ice cream parlor, eat to their heart’s content (with Bruce’s credit card), while Dick gloated by showing off the goggles. Bruce had already ordered Wally’s new ones. They’d arrive in a couple weeks.

After filling up on ice cream, they would return to the manor and have a movie marathon with Jason, popcorn, and Alfred’s cookies. On Friday, Roy was coming over and taking the two to Six Flags, also on Bruce’s money. He’d already bought the tickets.

How Dick had managed to convince Bruce to allow and pay for all this was anyone’s guess. Truthfully, he had merely applied puppy dog eyes, promised to stay out of trouble, reminded Bruce that Roy was an official Justice League member and Wally had super speed, and promised to wear a pair of goggles—sunglasses would fall off—but they didn’t need to know that. The mystery was worth the trouble.

At 5:20 pm, three minutes to go, the two teenagers took a shortcut through an alley. Artemis was prattling on about school and teachers and how the other students, but not him of course, were so rich and stuck up. Dick was so distracted by excitement for the evening and next day and Artemis’s rant that by the time he realized that the hairs sticking up on the back of his neck were not his imagination and his Robin senses were tingling, they were already cut off and trapped. Dick only just managed to dodge the first blow to the back of his head, one that would have easily knocked him unconscious.

Dick saw four men, buff and strong. The two teenagers immediately sprang into action, Dick made sure to pare down his fighting and to not fight like he’d been fighting beside Artemis for months, which he had, so as to not lead to the conclusion of him being Robin by the wrong people. Even though he trusted Artemis, he did not trust these new men to not put two and two together. It would be suspicious if a puny rich kid could knock out two men twice his size.

Each took two men. Dick focused on his fight, trusting Artemis to handle herself. He wasn’t winning, but he was holding his own. He never saw the fifth man, but Artemis did.

“Richard! Look out!” She shouted.

BAM!

Dick swayed on his feet as his vision tunneled. Through the clouds of consciousness, he felt someone pin his arms to his sides and lift him so that his feet dangled. Voices echoed, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Loosely, he found himself glancing down at his watch. The red numbers blared out a blurry 5:25. He felt a pinch in his arm, and then the world faded to nothing.


	3. The Crime Discovered

Chapter 2: The Crime Discovered

“-temis? … hear me?... rtemis…wake up… Artemis! ”

Artemis groaned and opened her eyes, then immediately shut them as dim light rushed into them. She slowly reopened them to a slit to take in a hovering red shape above her. Blinking a few times, the shape sharpened into her concerned boyfriend, Wally. What was Wally doing here? There were other shapes behind him… red and blue flashing lights? What had happened? What was going on?

“Miss, are you alright?” a voice to her right asked.

“Hmm… Yeah,” she answered blearily, and swiveled her head to take in a police officer. Deciding he was no threat, she looked back at Wally. “Baywatch. Whatcha doin’ here? Wha' happen?”

“Have you been drugged?” Wally asked, squinting at her.

“No. Drugser bad.” Artemis shook her head to clear it of the fog.

“Can you sit her up? I’m going to check her for concussion.” The police officer said to Wally. He did so. The police officer shined a light in her eyes, causing her to wince. “Miss, can you answer some simple questions?”

“Yessss. I mean, yes. Yeah.” Artemis shook her head again, but Wally shot a hand out and stopped her. “Sorry.”

“What’s your name?”

“Artemis Crock.”

“Age?”

“15”

“What’s the date?”

“November 8, 2012”

“What is the last thing you remember?”

“Last thing I remember?” Artemis was silent for a second, thinking. What was the last thing she could remember? She had gone to school, left school. That annoying freshman came with her for a tutoring session in Calculus. He was grinning about something, but wouldn’t tell her what…. Wait a second, freshman? “Richard. Where’s Richard? He was with me, I think.”

The police officer froze, surprised. “Richard? Richard who?” Artemis looked at Wally. He was vibrating slightly, but didn’t look surprised nor jealous that she had been with another guy—had she told him about tutoring?—just worried. Confused, Artemis turned back to the police officer, and attempted to struggle to her feet.

“Richard Grayson. He’s about this tall,” she demonstrated, “tan, skinny, black hair, blue eyes. I’m pretty sure he was with me. He was supposed to tutor me in math today.”

The police officer cursed, and looked back at his partner who was observing the surroundings. “There’s another bag, but you’re the only one we found, Mi—“

“Do you remember anything after leaving school? Did you make it home? What time was it? Where did he go? Why didn’t you call for help? Did you now have time? What happened? Are you hurt? Was he hurt? How many people attacked you? Did you get any of them? What did they look like? Were they masked?”

“Baywatch. Baywatch!” He paused. “Shut up. Officer, to answer some of his questions, I remember being on the way to my house. Richard seemed happy about something, but wouldn’t tell me what. We turned into an alley.” She looked up and around. “I guess this one, and it’s kind of fuzzy past that point. I remember there being figures… in black maybe? I think they were masked because I don’t remember faces. What… what happened? Where’s Richard?”

“I think… he was kidnapped.” Wally stated solemnly.

“What?!?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was coming up, Wally noted, rubbing at his tired eyes. It had been more than 12 hours since Dick’s disappearance and more than 11 since Wally’s discovery of Artemis in the alley. He had wondered why Dick wasn’t activating the celebration chimes that he’d set up for the end of the bet. When all phone calls went to voicemail, he had gone to investigate, piggybacking off Bruce’s tracer (God forbid Bruce find out about that), and found Artemis lying there unconscious with their stuff strewn all over the alleyway.

They were in Wayne Manor now sitting on the couch in the living room. Artemis had checked out with the paramedics as having a mild concussion. They also determined that she had been given a mild sedative, similar to the kind that is typically given to Wisdom Teeth patients, in order to knock her out and disorient her. She had a black eye and bruises on her knuckles, indicating that a fight had taken place. She was currently passed out on Wally’s shoulder.

Several officers were milling around. They had set up equipment to track any calls that came in, and had already sent out an Amber Alert. Bruce had disappeared a few hours ago, presumably to search through his mail in the study for any recent threats. Wally was sure he had probably done that already. Bruce was very careful when threats came in, especially when Dick or Jason were involved, and made sure both boys knew who to look out for. Nah, Bruce was probably setting up a search and trace on the batcomputer for any sign of Dick.

Wally sighed. This was not how his night was supposed to go. The two boys had planned a trip to a nearby café, then a movie marathon complete with junk food… well Alfred’s cooking, which wasn’t exactly junk but definitely sweets. They were planning to blast music and play video games as well until Jason would inevitably stomp in and yell at them to turn it down because he had to go to school tomorrow even if they didn’t.

There were still desserts, but they were served by a solemn Alfred and offered to tired officers and depressed, worried teens, rather than two rambunctious teenagers who didn’t really need any more sugar. The sweets lacked their usual luster as the night went on and the ones that Alfred had originally prepared were exhausted. Jason had disappeared to bed hours ago at Bruce’s demand, and a female police officer named Montaina, Montanyo, Montoya, something like that had followed for Jason’s protection. Neither had the energy to argue. He wasn’t going to school tomorrow.

Wally dimly wondered if Artemis had figured out he wasn’t actually here for her, but rather for Dick. She probably thought he was just hanging around to be an awesome boyfriend in her time of need. That would be the logical conclusion. If that was her assumption, he had no will to correct it. Bruce might kill him if he did; Bruce was certainly wound up enough.

In the corner of his conscious, Wally heard the sound of the front door opening and keys jingling. A police officer moved to the front door to greet the new arrival. Shift change? Was it time for one? Almost no one outside the batfamily had keys to the manor. Clark- because Bruce was sick of him using laser vision to unlock the door-, Wally, Roy, and maybe Gordon were the sum total. Voices echoed in the front hall, but Wally didn’t even bother to try to sort them out.

There was the sound of running feet and then Roy Harper burst into the living room. He scanned the scene, taking in the police officers, who had turned to him in surprise, the tracking equipment, and the two human lumps on the couch, one of who was starting to stir from sleep, the other who was staring solemnly at a half eaten plate of food. Roy opened his mouth to ask what happened, but then closed it again. What happened was fairly obvious, given the location and general mood. He tried to ask what Artemis was doing here, but decided he didn’t really want to know at this moment at time. Roy made a strangled sound deep in his throat, moved over to the couch and plopped down next to Wally, putting his head in his hands.

At this point, Bruce emerged from his study. The circles under his eyes spoke to his lack of rest the night past. He gave a small start when he saw Roy, then nodded to him. “Anything?” he begged of the police officers.

“Nothing, Mr. Wayne. Sorry, sir. Anything in the mail?”

“No. Nothing.” Bruce sat down in the armchair that Jason had occupied earlier that night, and rubbed his eyes. “Why nothing? It’s been over twelve hours. It’s morning. Shouldn’t they have called by now?”

“Typically, yes.” Gordon said, entering the room. “However, I’m beginning to think this is not your normal kidnapping case.”

That caught Wally’s attention. “What? What do you mean this isn’t a normal kidnapping?” He spoke before Bruce could, prompting a warning look from Bruce and a nudge from Roy.

“The profile is in keeping with a recent string of abductions in Gotham and, as I’ve learned, around the world. I was planning on bringing Batman in on it last night, but he didn’t show.” Bruce instantly grabbed the folder from the commissioner’s arms. Batman had been a little busy last night, but might have appreciated this lead. “Three to five armed men attacking in an alleyway near dusk. Three of the six victims match Dick’s description. The victims were all with at least one other person, who was given a sedative and left behind as a witness.” The Commissioner had the rapt attention of both the redheads, Bruce, who was flipping through the file about his son, and Alfred now, as well as a couple of the officers.

“Why weren’t we informed of this immediately?” Bruce asked, switching into business mode, with a slight growl.

“I wasn’t sure of it. I’m still not sure of it, but there’s been no ransom call, like the other cases, and the possibility seems more and more likely by the minute.”

“Give me everything you have on the case.” Bruce said, looking up from Dick’s file.

“I can’t just give that out to civilians. I assure you that we’re searching for your son. I just doubled the task force on the kidnapping case in Gotham, and I’ve contacted other cities to get the Justice League involved, if it’s as widespread as we fear.”

Bruce clenched his hands, wishing he had gone out the night before, despite the fact he was needed at home.

“I’m as worried about Dick as you are, Bruce.” Gordon said, softly. “I may be wrong. This could be an independent case, in which case you need to wait here for a ransom call.”

“Which might not come?”

“We have to hope, Bruce. We will find him.”

“I need to go check on the teams.” He nodded to two police officers, who stayed. He, and the rest of the officers, began to depart. Gordon paused by the door and turned back, “Bruce, keep Jason close for the next few days. If I’m correct in who this group is targeting, they don’t need both boys.” Bruce nodded. Gordon left Bruce standing in the living room clenching his fists, two shocked red heads, and a still sleeping blond.

“What happened?” A small voice asked a few minutes later. Jason, wearing a too big shirt of Dick’s and pajama pants, stood in the doorway looking at the older people inside. 


	4. Introduction of the Dingbats

Chapter 3: Introduction of the Dingbats

The first thing Dick registered when he woke up was that he was not under a blanket. The next thing he registered was that Peanut was missing. Finally, he realized that he was not laying on the soft, heavenly surface of his rather large bed or the less heavenly, but still soft beds at either the Cave or Wally’s house. In fact, he didn’t seem to be on a bed at all. Dick clamped down on his groan so as to not inform the kidnappers, because he was sure he had been kidnapped, of his wakefulness. Groggily, the boy kept the position that he woke up in and tried to get a taste of his surroundings.

The air smelled rather musty, but no scents came immediately to mind. He focused, and made out a thin oil smell, and maybe hay? No, not dry enough. Wheat flour? Yeah, maybe that. So, maybe he was in a restaurant backroom? He could work with that, but… the sounds weren’t right. There was a loud, constant humming sound, and crunching gravel, then a whooshing sound, and back to the crunching gravel, kind of like a highway. He could also hear muffled country music and voices. There was a large bump and Dick was thrown upwards, hitting what felt like hollow metal.

Ok. That confirmed it. He was in a car, probably the trunk if his analysis was correct. It certainly didn’t feel like a cushioned seat. Deciding that the likelihood of someone else being in the trunk with him was zero to none, Dick slowly forced his eyes open… to meet utter darkness. He blinked a few times to see if that would help, but there was no improvement and he noticed that his eyelashes seemed to be brushing against something. He figured that he probably had a blindfold on. He could confirm or reject that theory later, but it seemed solid to him.

Dick moved to assess his other body parts. His wrists were bound firmly behind his back with very little give. The rope was itchy, and hurt when he moved his wrists, so he let it be. Further investigation revealed that his ankles were tied with the same rope, albeit less firmly. He moved to lick his lips and found similar rope blocking his mouth. Great, bound, blindfolded, __and__ gagged. Just his luck. This sucked.

Dick thought back to that morning. He and Wally had talked on the phone before school, and agreed to call when the bet was over, mostly so Dick could gloat. They knew Artemis would be so confused, but Dick personally didn’t care. She could be confused. He truly believed he would win. He wondered whether he or Wally had actually won. The bet was over at 5:23, but he was in the middle of a fight that ended with a kidnapping at that point. Huh. They’d have to call it a draw, when he got back.

Dick wondered what the ransom would be this time. They had been getting more and more ridiculous lately, but Bruce often had a way of retrieving the money and throwing the kidnappers in jail in the past. Maybe these guys would be modest. The media never reported the amounts of ransom, choosing to ignore that number, so as to not piss off Bruce Wayne by seemingly challenging the kidnappers. His last ransom had been $5 million, and the kidnappers, both men and women, had not hesitated to beat the shit out of him. He came home with five broken bones, three cracked bones, a shattered pointer finger, and too many cuts and bruises to count. Those men—and women—were now spending time at Arkham, in a nice cell right next to the Joker. Bruce didn’t mess around.

The car passed over another bump, and then another and another, and slowed to a stop. Dick steadied his breathing and closed his eyes. He figured he could go along with the kidnappers until he was outside and then kick them in the face, get the blindfold off, and run for it. Car doors slammed, but no one came around to the trunk. In fact, the footsteps were fading away. A bunch of voices got louder and then faded like a door had been opened and closed. There was silence around Dick. He waited patiently, but no one came. He furrowed his eyebrows and listened hard.

Yep, nothing. 

Dick decided to take advantage of the lack of kidnappers and attempt to get out. Moving carefully, he maneuvered his hands over his legs and in front of him. It hurt slightly, but worked. His hands immediately moved to the blindfold. After tugging and pulling on the duct tape, he was able to get it off enough to see slightly, but was unable to get it completely off. They had done an unusually good job of taping it on. Seriously, he though, they might have even done as well as the psycho kidnapping of ’08. That blindfold took Superman’s laser vision to get completely off. Did these people want him to be blind for life?

He used what little sight he had and started searching for a switch to open the trunk. There was often at least one in old cars, and the trunk didn’t feel very big. As he searched, he made sure to make plenty of noise in case someone who was not his kidnappers was walking by.

Dick smiled around his gag when his hand lit upon an inlet, but then stopped smiling when he realized that the hole was where a button to open the trunk used to be, not where one currently was. He shifted getting closer, leaning against the trunk roof, in order to get a better grip. No good. He tugged, and pulled, and pushed, but nothing happened to the trunk. It was stuck. Dick imagined it was so stuck that it would take a crowbar to open the trunk. That wasn’t encouraging.

Dick took as deep a breath as he could and gave up trying to open the trunk. He decided that he would prepare to run when the trunk was, in fact, opened. He pulled his ankles close to his wrists and started working the ropes off. The tightness of the ropes around his wrists increased the difficulty of the task by preventing his fingers from being too nimble, but he managed to get the job done. Ankles unbound, Dick waited. Occasionally thumped the trunk loudly. And waited, Eventually, he fell into a light doze.

Several hours later, footsteps returned to the car. The doors opened, and slammed shut, causing Dick to jerk awake. To his disappointment, the car began to inch forward, turned a few times, and moved onto, based on the sound he could hear from the ground, the on ramp for the freeway. The tires churned gravel and concrete and the car shot forward with an acceleration so fast that it caused Dick to bang against the back of the trunk.

He led loose a moan, but no one gave any indication that they heard him.

16,692 seconds later, the car pulled off the highway, and onto a dirt road. Dick bumped around even more in the trunk as they moved over the uneven surface. If the trunk hadn’t been slightly padded, as Dick had discovered around 3,456 seconds, he would have had a multitude of bruises. By the time the car pulled to a stop, Dick was more than ready for the world to stop shaking. He prepared himself to make a run for it, although he worried that they had driven too far from civilization for him to reach help.

It wouldn’t have been the first time, but he had great survival skills because of that first time it happened. After being stuck in the woods for a couple days, and almost dying from an infection and poison berries that Bruce luckily managed to stop him from eating, Batman decreed that both Robin and Robin, Jr (as Wally had dubbed Jason) would have an intensive wilderness survival lesson with everything from no supplies but those that nature provided to everything they should have with them at all times. When Flash heard about it, it took him all of five seconds to decide that, no matter what Batman said, Kid Flash was going too. Speedy, for he was Speedy then not Red Arrow, also joined. He’d grown up on a Native American Reserve, so he knew a lot about wilderness survival, but he could still learn more and teach his little brothers.

Footsteps approached the back of the car and Dick coiled his body to spring out the second a sizeable gap appeared. He heard a metal tool being lifted—huh, he was right. They did need a crowbar—and the trunk cracked open. Dick leapt into action. He head butted the man directly in front of him and spun around. Quickly taking in his surroundings, he headed for the woods, wincing once from his lack of shoes or socks.

Running full sprint with partial visual coverage, he didn’t register the arm that swung out until it was too late. He crashed directly into it, and cursed the KF rashness that had led him to believe this was a good plan. He scrambled to his feet, to get up and run again, but a pair of hands grabbed him around the middle and clenched his arms, pulling him from the ground and ignoring his struggles as he screamed for help through the gag. How did he forget to take that off? A silent figure, the one who must have hit him, moved forward from the tree line. He was wearing a mask. Dick decided to call him Dingbat 1.

“Shut up, brat.” A voice, who Dick decided would be Dingbat 2, said behind him. Dick increased his struggling and wails, but someone, Dingbat 3 because Dingbat 2 hadn’t let go of him and Dingbat 1 was still in front of him, hit him the back of the head. He quieted at the hit, but continued to struggle a second later.

“Don’t we have sedatives?” Dingbat 2 growled with a grunt after Dick managed to land an elbow blow on him.

“We do, but we need him awake for the ransom call.”

“We need him alive, not awake.” Dick stilled his struggles. If there was going to be a ransom call, there was a chance to tell Bruce where he was. He needed to be awake to do that. “Hmm. That got his attention. Shut up and don’t move, brat, or you won’t be able to say hi to Daddy.”

The Dingbats moved inside a damp, dark shack and set Dick down into a chair with arm rests. Dingbat 3 grabbed Dick’s forearms firmly, holding them level with his face as Dingbat 2 let go of him. Dingbat 2 removed the rope from Dick’s wrists, to his relief.

Before Dick could do anything to help himself, Dingbat 3 slammed his arms onto the armrest and pushed down on them so hard that Dick was sure it would bruise. Dick reciprocated by kicking Dingbat 3 in a very tender area. Dingbat 3 gave an unmanly yelp and loosened his grip a small bit in reaction to the pain. Not enough for Dick to get out of the grip, but enough to make him feel better. A second later, Dingbat 3 recovered and squeezed his arms harder than before. Heh. At least he tried. Dingbat 2 rebound Dick’s wrists firmly, and then tied a rope around his waist and another around his ankles. Meanwhile, Dingbat 1 was setting up a camera.

As the ropes were bound around, Dick noticed something… his clothes were missing. Well, not all his clothes—he still had his boxers and there was something resting on his head—but his school uniform, socks, shoes, and watch were gone. Goosebumps abounded on his arms as wind roared against the side of the shack. He supposed that meant that his belt was gone too. He just hoped that no one had seen it when they took his clothes off. It was hidden in a secret pouch, but they could still potentially find it.

“He took part of the blindfold off. Should I take it off and put a new one on, or just add to the one we have?” Dingbat… 2, he thought, asked. They had shifted. Still hadn’t gotten the voices straight with the faces. The blindfold covering part of his vision didn’t help. As if that wasn’t enough, they kept moving. The Dingbats were too unstill. It was annoying.

“Take it off. We’re all wearing masks, and Daddy might want to see baby brat’s eyes.” If the other one was Dingbat 2, then this one was Dingbat 3 talking. Dingbat 1, the guy who had yet to speak, grunted in agreement. So he __could__ make sound. “Be careful though. Don’t rip his hair out.” Dick closed his eyes as Dingbat 2 carefully removed the rest of the blindfold from Dick’s eyes. When it was fully removed, he opened them and blinked a few times to sharpen his vision, and then carefully took in his surroundings in greater detail.

All three men were clad in dark clothing and combat boots with a ski mask covering their entire head except their eyes. The lighting in the shack was dim, so Dick had trouble making out any specifics like eye color or loose hair color. It didn’t help that the men were purposefully avoiding his eyes. Dingbat 1 was the shortest, and judging by lack of bulk, seemed to have the least muscle mass. Dingbat 2 and 3 looked almost identical with similar builds and heights. They were off by maybe an inch. That didn’t help in telling them apart visually.

The camera, which Dingbat 1 was setting up, was a small, handheld video camera, ancient by today’s standards, but able to do the job. Dick’s heart sank as he realized that the video camera was the kind that filmed to a tape, rather than filmed live. He wouldn’t be able to talk to Bruce. More accurately, Dick thought as he remembered the gag cutting into his lips, Bruce wouldn’t be able to speak with him. Dick might not have been able to speak to him anyways, but it would have felt good to hear Bruce’s voice.

Dick tore his eyes from the video camera when the Dingbats, appropriate name, he decided, because of the black clothing, moved to aid with the set up. Seeing no immediate danger, Dick observed the rest of the room. The shack was average sized for a shack. It was dark and damp, as he already mentioned. He could faintly see a pull chain for a light bulb that the men were currently in favor of ignoring. The walls were made of folded metal. There was little in the room besides Dick and his chair, the camera, and the Dingbats, but Dick could see some rusted garden tools in the corner of the shack. Those would come in handy in another escape attempt. So would the chair. Although, he kicked experimentally at the leg and the chair didn’t budge; there wasn’t any give. The chair might be bolted down. He leaned forward as much as he could, mindful of his bindings. It was pretty far, all things considered. He looked down at the legs of the chair and saw bolts nailed into the floor. So much for using the chair.

“Hey!” Dingbat 3 called, glancing back at Dick and seeing that he was pretty far from the position they wanted him in. Dick’s head popped up as Dingbat 3 took a step towards Dick (that’s how small the space was), grabbed Dick’s shoulders, and slammed him back into position. Dick gave a little squeak at the sudden move.

“Give me more rope,” he demanded, keeping one hand on Dick and holding the other behind him for the rope. Dingbat 2 put a long length of rope into Dingbat 3’s free hand, and Dingbat 3 set to work binding Dick’s chest and back to the chair back. Dick held his breath to loosen the ropes, like he had seen a horse do once. Also knowing the trick, Dingbat 3 punched Dick in the stomach, causing him to lose his breath. Dingbat 3 pulled the rope tight, and then let go and admired his handiwork. “Try to move around that, brat,” he muttered loud enough for Dick to hear. Dick wisely decided not to test it.

Dingbat 3 seemed to think of something, and then grabbed two small black mittens with the thumb tied off. He forced Dick to ball up his hands, then pulled the mittens, which were actually kids’ mittens and too small, on. There was a drawstring on the side. Dingbat 3 pulled it tight and locked it into place. He checked the tautness of the ropes for any give. Not finding any, he sent a look towards his peers.

“We’re ready.” Dingbat 2 stated, answering the unspoken question. Dick tensed, eyes switching between the men in front of him. Dingbat 3 pulled the drawstring, and light flooded the room. The camera clicked on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 16,692 seconds is 4 hours, 38 minutes, and 12 seconds. I originally put 300,692 seconds, but then I realized that that’s at least three and a half days… They would have stopped for the night long before that and no one can count for that long without falling asleep.


	5. Package Received

Chapter 4: Package Received

The box came Tuesday afternoon, five days after Dick was snatched. The delivery boy brought it to Wayne Tech and a secretary signed off for it. She scanned it to make sure there was nothing dangerous. Not finding anything alarming, she brought it upstairs to Bruce and Jason, who Bruce hadn’t allowed to leave his side outside of the manor since Friday morning. Bruce didn’t even leave Jason alone with Alfred if they were outside the manor. That’s how terrified he was to lose his second son to the terrorists who the police were convinced had taken his eldest. Nodding to the policeman standing guard outside the door, she entered.

“Expecting a package, Mr. Wayne?” She questioned.

“No,” Bruce said rising out of his chair. Jason looked up from the corner, where he was doing homework from school. It was make-up work really, as Bruce was too afraid of letting Jason out of his sight to let him go to school. Artemis had dropped off the work when she stopped by to get an update on the situation. “Who is it from?”

“I don’t know. There was no return address, but the scans didn’t pick up anything dangerous.” She bit her lip. Personally, she thought it may be from the kidnappers, but she did not want to bring up the possibility only for him to find out that it was not and then be crushed. The man was losing enough sleep as it was.

Even so, it seemed that Bruce was well aware of the possibility, no, likelihood, that the package was from the people who took his kid. He took the package with trembling hands and set it down on his desk. Jason got up and came over to look as well. The two stared at the package for a moment, and then exchanged looks. Finally, Bruce looked up at the secretary and said, “You can go.”

She left, although her curiosity was sparked. This was not a moment for her to intrude upon.

Back in the office, Jason and Bruce were staring at the package as if it waiting for it to explode. Well, Bruce was. Jason was alternating between staring at the package and looking up at his father to see if he was going to open it. After five minutes of this, Jason burst out, “Well, if you’re not to open it, I am!” He grabbed the package and a letter opener from Bruce’s desk and cut open the package labels. He then opened the box.

Inside, wrapped in wrapping paper as if they were a present, were Dick’s clothes. They were neatly folded. Knowing this was probably against police procedure but needing to do it anyways, Bruce reached into the box, shaking, and pulled out his son’s blazer. He reached into the inner, hidden pocket, and found Dick’s utility belt. He breathed a sigh of relief. That was one weight off his chest, and it didn’t feel as if the inner pocket had been messed with at all. Bruce hid the belt in the Batman drawer. He didn’t want the police seeing it. 

There was blood on Dick’s white uniform shirt, which was much less of a relief. Not much, but enough to make a point. It looked like it had been made from a deep cut on his arm, based on the splatter pattern and the slice in the sleeve. Someone had drawn a skull face on the shirt, in Dick’s blood, with gloves. Jason shivered and looked away as Bruce removed the shirt.

Underneath the shirt was a black VCR tape, old fashioned and slightly dented in places, but useable. There was a beeper as well. Bruce paled a little, but felt slightly relieved as this was looking less and less like a terrorist case as he continued to remove things. He handed the tape to Jason, who was still staring at the shirt with trepidation. Bruce gently raised Jason’s chin to meet his eyes, and gave him a meaningful Batlook. Jason snapped out of it and raced to the closet to try to find an old VCR player.

His younger son no longer watching, he continued to pull items out of the box. Dick’s pants were in reasonably good condition, with only a small bit of dirt at the knees, as if he had tripped and scrambled back up. Dick had probably been keeping up the helpless rich kid act that Bruce regretted ever insisting on. Dick’s shoes had a few more scuffs than usual, but, like most shoes, held no evidence of a fight. His socks were balled up inside each shoe.

Dick’s watch, normal belt, and tie sat at the bottom of the box, as well as several crushed trackers. Bruce suspected that the trackers had been crushed immediately, given that he had been unable to find any signal, but the other objects may have been placed in after the ransom video, as Bruce hoped that was what the VCR tape was, had been made.

The only things missing, besides Dick himself, were Dick’s boxers and Kid Flash’s goggles. According to Kid Flash, the two teens had determined Dick would take the goggles to school that day so that he could gloat from the second he saw Kid Flash to when Kid Flash left on Saturday, and likely a little bit afterwards.

Bruce sighed, as Jason returned with an old, usable, VCR player.

“Tell the police officer. I’ll call Alfred.” Jason nodded, and ran to the door as Bruce picked up the phone and dialed Alfred. The phone rang only one and a half times before the line picked up.

“Alfred. I think we just received a ransom video.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zantanna lay on the couch with her knees bent over the arm rest, staring at her phone. She called Robin 20 times in the last week and left 5 voicemails, but he had not called back. She also sent him at least 50 texts asking where he was, but he had not replied. There was the possibility that he misplaced or lost his phone, but he had not answered her hails on the Justice League communicators either when she turned to that. Plus, Robin would never have gone this long without his phone, at least without visiting the Mountain.

Maybe Robin was grounded. That would also explain why he wasn’t answering emails. However, that did not explain why Artemis and Wally had only been to the cave once in the last week, and just to pop in to use the equipment. Artemis said that she, Wally, and Red Arrow were on a special mission in Gotham. When Zantanna asked, Artemis was surprised that Robin had not been by the Mountain, especially since he had not joined in their mission, even though it was his city. She was even more surprised that he had not answered any messages. It wasn’t like him. She said she’d ask Batman about it.

Wally, however. Wally stiffened at the mention of Robin, wouldn’t meet Zantanna’s eyes, and rushed off when she asked him about it. Artemis stared after him, and then told Zantanna she’d find out what was up with him as well. Then, Artemis left, following after Wally with furrowed eyebrow as if attempting to figure something out.

Black Canary also wouldn’t meet Zantanna’s eyes when she asked about Robin. Thankfully, Black Canary, at least, composed herself and gave Zantanna an answer. She said that Robin was on a secret, undercover mission for Batman and should be back soon. Batman hadn’t given him much warning, which was why Wally was so upset. Most of the other league members said something similar, although they sounded slightly unsure.

This brought Zantanna back to her current situation. Trying to contact the MIA boy wonder, or at least get an answer from his best friend, Wally, who would be coming by soon. She could tell something was wrong and a knot of worry that had wedged its way in earlier that week not long after Wally, Artemis, and Robin had not joined them at Six Flags refused to budge.

Conner sat on the other side of the couch, watching the static. He cast a worried glance towards Zantanna. He, M’gann, and Kaldur were slightly worried as well, but they understood that the League, well, mostly Batman, would likely keep anything that happened to Robin in his civilian life a secret as long as they could. They were able to stay traught, unlike the distraught Zantanna. Conner hoped Robin would return soon. It was unlike him to go radio silent without letting them know, and he needed to come make Zantanna feel better. She was too mopey.

**“Recognized: Kid Flash B03, Artemis B07, Batman 02, Red Arrow B06.”**

“Team, report to the mission room.” 


	6. In Which Dick is Hungry

Chapter 5: In Which Dick is Hungry

Bruce had the VCR set up with his office TV and was fiddling with Dick’s watch, by the time Alfred and Commissioner Gordon, as well as a few officers arrived. Wally had arrived one minute ago, with Artemis in tow so as to not look suspicious. He was pacing. Jason had texted him the news. Bruce looked up as they walked in, put the watch down with the rest of Dick’s stuff, and grabbed a hold of Jason’s shoulder.

“A VCR tape?” the Commissioner asked. Bruce nodded in response.

“Ok. Play.” He said, and the officer who’d initially been guarding the office pushed the play button.

The video opened, with shaky graphics, on Dick. Bruce sucked in a breath at his son’s condition. He was firmly bound to a metal chair around the wrists, ankles, waist, and chest, and gagged as well. There were bruises on his arms and beginning to form near his wrists, as well as one on his right cheek. His clothes had already been removed in the picture, and he was shivering in only his boxers, and some weird black material that was hiding his hands, almost like mittens. Kid Flash’s bright red goggles were sitting atop his head, for some reason, causing Wally to suck in a breath. Artemis recognized them as well.

“Hey, why does he have your goggles? I thought that you know who had them.” Bruce shot Wally a look that clearly said “Watch yourself.”

“Uh, they’re probably just similar goggles. Or something to screw with us.” He indicated with his eyes to the police in the room, who had paused the video, and were observing the exchange between the teens. “Continue.” Commissioner Gordon raised an eyebrow, feeling that they were hiding something, but nodded to the officer to do so.

A man in dark clothing with a thick, black ski mask moved behind Dick. The boy attempted to keep him in his sight, leading to him rolling his eyes up and leaning his head back when the man stood directly behind him. The man grabbed his head, and forced him to face forward, towards the camera. Keeping one hand in the boy’s hair, the man pulled a knife from his pocket and started fiddling with it, leering at the camera.

“Hello, Mr. Wayne. A pleasure to speak to you, as always. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that your delightful son has been missing for a while. Don’t worry,” the man leaned forward and wrapped an arm around Dick’s waist. “He’s in excellent hands, if I do say so myself.” The boy was frozen, his teeth clenched and his eyes caught between disdain, anger, and a tiny bit of fear, which you could only see if you knew him really well. So, basically, Wally, Alfred, and Bruce could see it at that moment. Bruce’s fingernails were starting to cut into his skin. He glared at the screen hard enough that if he were Superman, it would have exploded by now. The man on the screen started to pet Dick’s hair.

“However, if you want to see little Richard again, you’ll need to do a teensy favor for me.”

“Anything.” Bruce hissed, despite knowing that the man definitely could not hear him.

“I’ll need three million untraceable US dollars wired to the account numbered CH76 0344 2012 6573 2020 97 by Thursday midnight. Feel free to pay it sooner. When I have asserted that the correct amount has been placed in the account and it has been transferred without trace, I will disclose your son’s current location to you, and no sooner. Don’t bring any police with you to the pick-up site, or I will shoot him. If you or he pisses me off, I will take my time. If not, you’ll be able to ride to his rescue maybe six hours after I receive the funds.”

Dick looked horrified at the idea that he would have to spend at least a week with these psychos. His eye flicked back and forth between two spots in front of him and, almost pointedly, straight ahead at the camera. His fingers appeared to be moving inside the dark sac, but not enough that they could make out any signals.

The man gently splayed a hand over the back of Dick’s head, one finger touching a sensitive spot on the back of his neck, causing him to reflexively shrug up his shoulders. Finally, Dick looked straight at the camera seeming to beg Bruce to end this. The man nuzzled his face against Dick’s, causing the boy to shiver, and stroked Dick’s chin with his free hand. Dick’s eyes slid to him, and he tried to lean away but was hindered by the ropes around his chest.

“Against my better instincts, I won’t do anything naughty to your precious boy, Mr. Wayne. But if those funds aren’t in my account by midnight Thursday or earlier… well, I’ll just get to have my fun.” The video ended there, to the horror of those watching. On the one hand, it was proof of life; on the other, Dick didn’t look to be in the best condition. Plus, the time stamp was from Friday evening.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick knew they were eating. He could smell the food. It smelled like fried chicken, fast food. They weren’t exactly being quiet with their chomping. The car had slowed a little bit ago as well. His stomach growled. They had fed him something before they left the shack, and again the day before yesterday, right before his third escape attempt. What they had given him was not filling at all.

Food sounded good. It would taste good, too. Were they planning to starve him until they gave him back to Bruce? He could go a while without food, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want any. Although, poisoned food might be a good thing to avoid, if he wanted to live and all. Thankfully, they had given him water several times, so he didn’t have to worry about that.

He had tried to escape twice more since they left the shack. Once the same day and again the day before yesterday. Definitely not some of his smarter moves, but something felt fishy about the situation. Heh. Fishy. Alfred makes excellent fish dishes. Like the one he made last Wednesday. Jason’s face when he saw the dish was great. Jason doesn’t like fish very much. He prefers chicken, and cookies. They both like cookies, with milk. Alfred makes the best cookies ever. He had some secret recipe that equaled perfection.

Anyhow, back to the escape attempts. After the ransom video, Dick had been fed, and then they had replaced the gag and gave him a weak sedative. As it kicked in, he noticed that the men seemed to be dirtying him up. They did something with the video camera that he wasn’t fully aware of. As soon as they were finished, they had immediately shoved him back in the trunk of the car and fixed the trunk so that it could only be opened by a crowbar again. So, there had been no chance then. Hmm. Crows. Crows liked corn. Corn sounded good about now. Did you know that the majority of corn crops went to livestock, such as cows? Alfred made excellent cornbread, too, but he only made it occasionally and for Thanksgiving. Mmm. Corn.

Dick woke up again much later. He was still drowsy from the sedative though, and dozed off instead of trying to get the ropes off. After another hour or so, the car pulled to a stop. As they pulled Dick out to transfer him to another car, he seized the chance to bolt, completely forgetting that he had neglected to remove his bindings. Luckily, his legs weren’t tied, or he would have face planted immediately. As it was, Dick blindly ran straight into one of the Dingbats, who instantly caught him and lifted him up from the ground. Had he mentioned he hated being short? Couldn’t one of them be shorter? This was way too easy for them, especially since he couldn’t pull a Robin move that was guaranteed to get him out of their hold.

Whichever Dingbat was holding him carried him towards the other car. He managed to blindly kick one of the other Dingbats in the stomach and head-butted the one behind him. The Dingbats both grunted, but unfortunately didn’t sound injured. Oh well, he tried. For his troubles, he received a prick on his shoulder and no food for the day. When he woke up from the sedation, he found he was propped against a wall, with something cold against his neck. He tried to lean forward, but immediately stopped when there was a sudden pressure on his throat causing him to choke slightly.

After that, Dick decided that it would be easier to get past a single Dingbat than all three. He had targeted Dingbat 1 as the easiest to get past, from what he could remember of his build. If he could wait until only 1 was guarding him, he was sure that he could get away.

The chance came the next evening. They stopped in a wooded area for the night, not too far from the road but sufficiently hidden. They fed him a small cup of what tasted like a cheap potato and cheese chowder, which sounded really good around now. He ate quickly, not putting it past them to get bored with feeding him and not give him the full serving. For some reason, the Dingbats hadn’t bothered to redo the gag, probably thinking he had learned his lesson about trying to call for help. He had. After dinner, two of the Dingbats went to sleep while the third kept watch, as seemed to be the normal nightly routine.

1 had the second shift, so Dick decided to take a short nap before attempting anything. All day spent in the trunk of car allowed him to carefully loosen the ropes around his wrists without the Dingbats noticing. In about an hour, he loosened them enough that he could easily slip his wrists out at any time, but stopped there so as to keep up appearances. Dick woke up during the shift change. He waited until people stopped shifting around, and he didn’t feel any eyes on him. Then, he quietly slipped one hand out of the slack ropes, raised it to the collar around his neck, and started picking the lock with a needle he’d picked up the night before. The Dingbats had wrapped a blanket around him so he wouldn’t freeze to death—given that it was November and all. The blanket easily hid his actions.

There was a soft click as the collar unlocked. Dick froze, and listened for any signs that Dingbat 1 had heard it. There were none, so he turned on stealth mode, took the collar off and slipped his other hand out of the ropes. He reached up to take the blindfold off, standing up as he did so.

Suddenly, Dick was smashed against the tree, held up by an arm on his neck. He let loose a yelp as his head collided hard with a bump on the trunk. Someone grabbed one of his wrists, twisting it and pinning it above his head.

“Waz going on?” Dingbat 2 asked. Whoever was holding Dick’s wrist tightened their grip. Dick gave a wheezing cough. 2 instantly sounded more awake. “Woah. What are you doing? Why did you untie him?”

“I didn’t.” A soft voice, which he hadn’t heard before, stated directly in front of him. “We underestimated the rich brat.” 1 leaned forward, holding Dick up with 1’s body weight. 1’s arm, which was pinning Dick’s neck to the tree moved away, and his now free hand covered Dick’s mouth and nose, effectively suffocating him. Dick thrashed under his grip, getting a few good kicks in, before going limp as his vision went black.

When he regained consciousness, he was trussed up again in the back of a car. The collar and gag were back and the ropes around his wrists and now ankles were tied so tight that he couldn’t feel his fingers or toes. He could, however, feel a slight ache in his stomach, which decided to make itself heard with a loud gurgle.

“What was that?”

“Donno. Sounded like a wild animal.”

“Whatever it is, we can take it.”

“Naturally.”

Dick whimpered softly. They continued for about an hour, country music blaring, before the car made a bunch of turns and slowed to a stop. The Dingbats got out. Straining his ears, Dick could hear the sound of another car unlocking, and something clinking. The trunk opened and he felt two pairs of hands grasp his arms and legs firmly.

“Can we put these on him with the other ropes still tied?” Huh. These what? New restraints? Maybe the Dingbats wised up to his stubbornness and upped their game. Joke’s on them. Robin knew how to get out of boundless types of restraints. All he’d have to do is activate the lock picks in his glove pointer fingers and… Oh wait; he wasn’t Robin at the minute, no gloves. Dang it.

It might be a good idea to get away before these new restraints were on him. Yeah, the new ones were probably something he wanted to avoid. Dick coiled his muscles, planning the best course of action.

Click.

Too late.


	7. Oh no, you didn't!

Chapter 6: Oh no, you didn’t!

Bruce drummed his fingers impatiently on his desk, glaring at the beeper that would relay the coordinates of his son. It was early Thursday morning and eight hours after the money had been transferred, without a tracker. The money had been relatively easy to get his hands on because it was mostly from the funds that he had neglected to reintegrate after Dick’s last kidnapping.

Convincing Commissioner Gordon that paying the ransom was better than nonpayment, which Gordon suggested because he still thought Dick had been kidnapped by terrorists, was the difficult part. Bruce had pointed out that none of the other kidnappings thought to be by the group had ransoms, so it was probably someone different. Once Commissioner Gordon had conceded the point, Bruce had transferred the funds as fact as humanly possible.

Superman had mentioned to Batman that it might be a good idea to bring along some League members, to ensure that there was back up just in case it did turn out to be terrorists like Gordon was pushing. Batman had considered it, and decided to put Robin’s team on it, as half of them were involved already. He had begun taking Robin, Jr. out on patrol dressed as his older brother earlier in the week, to deflect suspicion in case Dick was injured. He had wanted to activate Contingency Plan Jaybird, as Robin called it, and Robin, Jr had been begging to go on patrol for a long time. Batman just wished it was under better circumstances.

Batman mentioned the idea to include a security detail around Bruce Wayne when he went to pick up Dick. Commissioner Gordon agreed, and passed it on to Alfred, as Bruce Wayne was unavailable. Batman, meanwhile, passed the mission and details on to the team and Red Arrow.

_“Your mission is a young boy named Richard Grayson. He was kidnapped last Thursday evening around 5 pm, with Artemis as the only witness. The GCPD and some members of the Justice League believe he was kidnapped by child traffickers or terrorists. This theory was mostly removed when his fath-guardian Bruce Wayne removed a package in the mail yesterday containing a ransom tape.” At this point, he played the ransom video, which he had digitized after Batman had received it from Commissioner Gordon. Roy watched with rapt attention, having not seen it yet, while the other three already involved averted their eyes. “The ransom has been paid, and Bruce Wayne is simply waiting for the coordinates of his s-ward to be sent.”_

_“I’ll bet.” Wally muttered. Batman narrowed his eyes at him, causing the boy to raise his arms defensively. Internally, he smirked over the fact that Batman kept almost referring to his kids as sons rather than wards._

_“Your mission is to act as a security force around Bruce Wayne and his wards in case the pick-up turns out to be different than it seems, and defeat the kidnappers if it comes to it.”_

_“Wait, wards?” Zantanna asked._

_“Yes, Bruce has another ward named Jason Todd. Artemis, Kid Flash, and Red Arrow will stay behind at the manor to protect Jason, as they are already involved in their civilian forms.” Four pairs of eyes flashed to the offenders in surprised. “Meanwhile, Aqualad, Zantanna, Superboy, and Miss Martian will accompany Bruce Wayne to the pick-up site.”_

_“Where is Robin? And where will you be?”_

_“We cannot come as our presence would be expected. Plus, Robin is busy with another task.”_

_At this Wally thought, “Yeah. Staying alive,” careful to keep his thoughts quiet so that M’gann would not hear._

_“Yours would not be, as you are a covert team and the kidnappers likely do not know that Justice League is involved, giving you the advantage of surprise in a conflict. Plus, you are not the police.”_

Now, as Bruce waited for the coordinates to appear, Artemis, Wally, Roy, Alfred, Jason, and Aqualad filled his study. Aqualad, was keeping watch on the window, carefully out of sight, while Wally paced and Jason played with a slinky. Artemis and Roy were playing War with a pack of cards, and Alfred stood stoically, with shadows under his eyes the only indicator of his worry and fatigue.

The beeper ba-dinged. Showtime.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They took the Bioship to the coordinates, 14 hours away straight by car, two hours by Bioship, and an hour and a half by Bioship when Bruce was glaring at Miss Martian to make the ship go faster. The whole time, Bruce swallowed his nervousness. Taking the Bioship was a risk because the location was far from any airport and he had no concrete way of explaining how he got there. Bruce thought it was a risk worth taking though because he wanted to make sure his son, who’d been missing for a _week_ , was home safely.

It was going to be alright though. As soon as they got there, his son would be in his arms, safe from harm. Bruce had brought clothes for Dick, which didn’t look like his Robin civvies, and a pair of socks and shoes, although he was unsure if his boy would actually need them. Bruce was planning to pick him up and not put him down until he was safe in his bed. Next, he would clear the house of guests except for Wally, Roy, and maybe Artemis—she deserved to know by now—without leaving his son’s room, where Jason would also be at the moment.

Then, he would allow the two—or three—remaining to visit Dick. Dick and Wally would argue over who won the bet, then look to Bruce for an answer, and he would oh, so reluctantly say that it was so close it must be a tie and he would have to sacrifice the money for a new Xbox and a new pair of goggles—the goggles were already in the mail anyways. Then, Alfred would walk in with a plate of cookies, and the boys would grin and the plate would disappear in a few minutes, tops.

“Approaching coordinates now.” Miss Martian said. They had agreed that the Bioship would drop Bruce a mile from the coordinates, with a GPS tracker on hand. He, with Miss Martian invisible, would walk the rest of the way to the coordinates. The rest of the team would follow. He’d still be insanely early, but at least he wouldn’t be accused of arriving weirdly.

Miss Martian put up the mental link. They dropped down to the forest ground, and started marching through the undergrowth of a deciduous forest. They were deep into the Appalachian Mountains, not close to main roads. A car driving this way would be hidden from the time it left the main road to when it returned, even this late in the year.

Before long, the two came along a rusty shack, with walls matching the background of the ransom video. There were car tracks, but they looked to be old and were partially faded by a recent rain. Foot prints and boot prints led to the woods, also old, but only boot prints came back, although one set was deeper, suggesting added weight. There were also prints near where a car may have been parked. No car was in sight. A sick feeling was beginning to rise in Bruce’s stomach, but he forced himself to stay calm.

Miss Martian relayed these facts to the rest of the team as Bruce moved forward towards the shack, which had a lock on it. He looked at Miss Martian, asking if he could call out for his son.

“Go ahead.” She thought. “Superboy, can you come break the lock?”

“Dick?” Bruce called out, knocking on the door. “Dick, are you in there?” There was no response. “Dick, answer me. Please. It’s Bruce.” Bruce moved aside to allow Superboy to break the lock.

“He might be unconscious. I can’t sense his mind.” Miss Martian relayed over the link. The world seemed to darken as a sun went behind a cloud.

“Dick!” He called. Superboy tore the lock off the door, and Bruce wasted no time shoving him aside, ripping the door open, and entering.

The room, when they entered was dark, with no telltale signs of life. Bruce pulled out and flicked on a flashlight. The background matched the video exactly. Serrated edged walls, a chair bolted to the floor with ropes hanging loosely around it seemed to fill the room. There were some gardening tools in the corner and a video camera that probably filmed the ransom video was still set up in the middle of the small room, but no Dick. No Richard Grayson or any body anywhere. A light coating of leaves and twigs brought in by the recent rain through a crack in the window indicated that the room had not been touched in almost a week. Bruce turned in a large circle, searching with a flashlight for his son.

“No.” He thought to himself, and then, to the group at large, “He’s not here.”

“Superboy, Miss Martian, Zantanna, search the area. I’ll help Mr. Wayne search for evidence.” Kaldur took charge over the mental link.

“Mr. Wayne, I’ll be inside in a second.” Bruce moved towards the video camera and picked it up, as Kaldur entered the room behind him. Unbeknownst to them, the removal of the camera triggered a signal that was picked up miles away. Touching the camera, he noticed there was a tape inside the camera. He pressed play.

The camera showed the room as it had been when the ransom video had been made, except Dick was dirtier and obviously out of it. The black-shrouded man from the first video stood behind the boy, one hand on his shoulder. The ropes had been loosened, but not removed.

“Hello Mr. Wayne. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, having found this video, the room around you is void of life. I told you would send his current location, didn’t I? As of when I made these videos, so now, this is his current location. However, by the time you receive the ransom video, pay the ransom, and get the coordinates for this location, we’ll be long gone. Don’t feel bad. We were never planning to give him back anyways. We thank you for your generous donation to our cause.” Bruce’s mouth went slack. They weren’t giving his boy back? But he had paid the ransom! It was supposed to be an exchange! What did they mean ‘generous donation’? What had he done? Kaldur gently laid a hand on Bruce’s back to calm the man, and Bruce didn’t have the heart to shake it off. They kept watching.

“You should probably begin to think of yourself now. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a bomb by the gardening tools. I believe I managed to make it almost silent.” He looked pleased with himself. “The timer was activated when you removed the camera from the stand. Have a pleasant day.”

In the end, Kaldur had to drag Bruce out of there so that they would not both be blown to bits. When they returned to the Bioship, the feelings of shock were beginning to fade, replaced by pure hate and anger. Bruce should have known. The signs were there. He would find his son. Then, he would find the man who stole his son from him, and that monster would face the full wrath of the Batman.


	8. Save Your Strength. You'll Need It.

Chapter 7: Save Your Strength. You'll Need It.

If the ransom was paid, why wasn’t he on his way home? The kidnappers had done little to harm him or indicate that he wouldn’t return home. Although, they had been moving him a lot… Come to think of it, where was he? He could hear the ocean lapping up against the docks, but the smell that accompanied that location in Gotham was absent. The air was stale in the prison he’d been in for the last day or so, but it did not smell of rotting garbage, human waste, and disease.

There was a creak from across the room to the right that Dick associated with the door. Four sets of footsteps approached him. He tensed and forced himself to remain still and not lash out with Robin’s skill and wit.

Dick had yet to see his kidnappers again, despite the fact that a week had passed. It had been a week, right? They had bound his arms at the wrists and biceps and his legs at the ankles. Then, at each new location, they chained him by the neck to some point by or on the wall. They claimed they wanted no acrobatic level escape tricks from the circus freak. Dick wasn’t really worried about that part. Batman had taught him how to escape all sorts of traps and bindings, and he had, in fact, learned some escape tricks from the circus. Unfortunately, he didn’t think that escaping, or attempting to escape would work in his favor. After all, the first three tries were what led to this point… The bindings had been fairly simple before the attempts. Now, they were solid metal.

If he could be Robin, he would have gotten away by now, taken down his kidnappers, and called Batman for pickup. Maybe the Justice League if he was mad enough. Definitely Wally and Roy. Dick fantasized about watching them beat up the kidnappers, although they probably wouldn’t be too mad because, minus a few bruises, he was virtually unharmed, for some reason.

The footsteps stopped next to him. “This him?” A rough voice asked. This guy was new. His voice reminded Dick of the grunts who often worked for bigger villains. Dick wondered again what was going on here. The ransom had to have been paid by now. Bruce wouldn’t willingly leave him in the hands of kidnappers. Batman should have found him by now. Maybe, these guys were taking him home?

“Yeah, that’s him. Wayne’s runt.”

“Excellent, prepare him.” Two sets of hands grabbed Dick’s forearms and legs as the neck chain was disconnected from the wall. “Hmm, medium sized will do.” The rough voice said. Medium sized what? Clothing? He was a small in shirts and pants though, not a medium.

“Don’t try anything, or you’ll regret it,” the now familiar voice of Dingbat 3 hissed in Dick’s ear. Confused, Dick stayed perfectly still. To his surprise, the cuffs around his ankles were unlocked and removed. In one quick motion, he was flipped onto his stomach and the cuffs around his biceps and wrists were also taken off. The man holding Dick’s arms, Dingbat 2, he thought based on the hand texture, moved his grip to Dick’s wrists. Dick was hauled to his feet and his wrists were rebound in front of him with normal handcuffs. The gag and duct tape blindfold remained.

Without giving him a second’s reprieve to gain his footing and thoughts, Dingbats 2 and 3 shoved him forward. Dick stumbled, and then moved forward with the men. His bare feet met the dirt of what seemed to be a warehouse, based on the echoes. After going 12 paces forward, 4 paces to the right, and another 3 paces forward, Dick bumped into something metallic and hard. Then, they stopped. Dingbats 2 and 3 kept a tight hold on their captive—probably due to experience—while the new guy and who he thought was Dingbat 1 because of the lack of speech, did something else. He wasn’t sure what.

Dick jumped slightly when a loud, scraping sound sounded to his right. It was a slightly familiar, loud, scraping sound, like that of a heavy sheet of metal being moved, and then a loud crash as if the heavy sheet had been dropped to the ground. Unbidden, the hairs on the back of Dick’s neck began to stand up and he leaned away from where the sound came from.

“Quiet, you idiot!” The rough voice barked out. “Do you want to get caught?”

“It’s fine. It’s not like we’re in Gotham. No Batman breaking in here. We’ll live,” 2 replied. “’Sides. I altered the guard rotations to create a gap. No one is walking by here for another half hour.” Dick’s breath caught at the admission, but quickly calmed down. He knew they weren’t in Gotham, knew from the smell. This was just a confirmation. He’d be home soon.

Yet, that little sprout of doubt was blooming in his chest. Something wasn’t right here. He had been kidnapped almost a week ago, judging by the number of times he’d been fed. This was his longest kidnapping to date, and he knew Bruce would have paid the ransom as soon as opportunity allowed if it meant Dick would be home, and Batman had to be searching too. Wally and Roy and probably Artemis must be searching as well because they would have known right away. Maybe the whole team was searching, so why hadn’t they found him yet?

Trapped in his thoughts, Dick was caught by surprise when an arm swept under his knees yanking him into the air. Dick immediately began to squirm and fight, but it had no effect on the man holding him. The week of starvation had chipped away his strength. Dick was placed down on a hard metal surface against a smooth wall. A box. He was in a metal box. He shot up, trying to escape, to get out, but was slammed back down, hitting his head on the wall and momentarily winding him.

The hands—he lost track of whose and how many—didn’t move this time holding him down while other hands placed stuff in around him. Dick fought the hands with everything he had, fear overriding his typically logical mind. One of the hands released his arm and slapped him hard across the face. Dick instantly stilled. The other hands were still moving around him. The rough voice spoke like a snake entrapping his prey.

“Listen up and listen hard, boy. I have no patience for rich little snots like you. Fortunately for you, you’re special order: delivery uninjured. Otherwise, I would love to spend a few hours breaking your pathetic little soul. Struggle too much, and you’ll be ‘accidentally’ lost at sea.” Chills ran down Dick’s spine at the assertion. He could easily believe that this new man would have no qualms about seriously harming, or killing, him. The other hands stopped moving and withdrew. Although he couldn’t see it, Dick could feel the intensity of his captor’s gaze upon him. “Now, you aren’t going to move for the next two minutes while we finish up. Understood?” Dick nodded his head slightly. “Good boy.” The hands moved off of him, but he didn’t move. A slight buzzing filled his head. He wondered if he might have a concussion from hitting his head on the wall. The rough voice was moving away, giving orders to the Dingbats.

A hand landed on Dick’s head holding it in place. Dick tensed, but the man was simply removing the metal collar from his neck. Heh, why was it called removing anyway? They were taking it off and essentially destroying it and it probably would not be moved much after that so shouldn’t it be demoving or unmoving or just moving or… or… something.

Against his will, Dick began to shake. He was in a _metal box_ , near a port, far from Gotham. He wasn’t stupid. He knew that there were multiple cases of child trafficking near the borders and coasts. The rough voice had said he was _Special Order_. That wasn’t encouraging, although it would explain why he wasn’t with other kids and hadn’t been returned home yet.

Something rough and thick was dropped on top of him. Dick’s trembling increased. Were they covering him up? Would he be overlooked by the crew because a tarp covered him? Hands tucked around him, but his head remained free. A blanket, he realized. They were wrapping him in a blanket. He slowly pulled his feet into the warmth, freezing, when he felt a glare upon him. A thick cylinder was dropped in his lap, and the rough voice spoke up again.

“In case you’re too daft to figure it out, we just gave you a blanket and a flashlight. Use them as you may, there’s enough battery power left for six hours of light. You have enough food and fresh water around you to last two and a half weeks, if you use it wisely. You shouldn’t be in there that long, but you might be in there longer. I suggest you pace yourself brat. This is all you’re getting. My buddy here is going to remove your gag. Don’t try anything; there’s no one around and they’d never find your body if there was.” Dick felt the gag loosen and disappear. He was shaking so hard now that, if he were Wally, he’d probably be vibrating through the ground. He didn’t doubt, special order or not, that the rough voice would follow through with his threats. Dick didn’t make a peep. “Good boy.” There was a prick on his right arm near his shoulder. Dick’s eyes widened beneath his blindfold. “Rest now.”

As Dick faded into unconsciousness, he heard one of the Dingbats ask, “If you had a sedative the whole time, why wait until now to use it?”

“He needs to be out until the ship gets out to sea, when there will be no rescue. Plus, I love watching them struggle and seeing the fear in their faces as they realize the truth of the situation. It’s pure bliss.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Dick next came to consciousness, he felt the ground rolling below him. Resisting the urge to puke up what little was in his stomach, partially because he needed the calories if he were to survive and because he didn’t want to smell it for the next… how long had the rough voice said… two weeks or more? Crud. Dick hoped that Bruce would figure out what happened and soon. Even if he did know, though, it would be difficult for him to find Dick.

The ship was in the middle of the ocean, one of hundreds, and Dick didn’t know where it was going or where it had come from. Bruce might not even know when it had left. Maybe if Bruce figured out what port he left out of, he could start somewhere, but there was no telling which ship he was on or, for Bruce, when he had left or if he had left at all. No, there could be no waiting for Bruce on this one. When he did reach the docks of whatever obscure location he was going to, there would be a very small window for escape and he would have to take advantage of it… if he could walk.

That was a while away, however, so Dick figured he better catalog his supplies. Fumbling with the flashlight he’d been given in his still handcuffed hands, he found the switch and flicked it. The change in lighting was so miniscule that Dick could barely see it at all. Slightly panicky, he flipped it again and again, and then forced himself to calm down. Why wasn’t there a difference in lighting? Think, Grayson. There was probably a reasonable explanation.

He dropped the flashlight and lifted his hands to his head. Goggles, still not sure why he was allowed to keep them, but check. Hair, oily and in desperate need of a wash, check. Eyes, blindfolded, check. Wait… oh. Slightly embarrassed at himself, Dick unwound the blindfold from his face, tugging slightly but carefully so as to not accidentally pull his hair out. He estimated that it took him an eternity to get it all the way off. Dang Dingbats and their infernal skills at blindfolding thirteen year old boys.

His surroundings instantly sprang into view. He blinked a few times to adjust his eyes to the sudden light. The box was metal, as he predicted, but there were holes throughout. Tiny holes, that he couldn’t even fit his pinky finger in, but holes all the same. Probably for breathing.

The rough voice hadn’t lied. The thick sheet he had felt was, in fact a blanket. Shining his flashlight on it, he saw it looked red. Hopefully, that was the original color scheme and not from the blood of its victims. Umm… Maybe that thought process wasn’t the best. Blood of those who escaped and returned home? Uh... A little better, but not much. Whatever caused the blanket’s coloring, Dick didn’t want to know. He struggled to pull the blanket tighter with his handcuffed hands.

The Dingbats hadn’t given him new clothes to replace the ones they had taken from him when he was captured. They had probably been sent to Bruce with a bit of blood from the small, shallow cut he had on his forearm or destroyed in fear of trackers or something. The blanket—and his boxers—were all he had for warmth. The goggles he’d been able to keep giving off nothing. Dick wished that these had a beacon like the new ones they had ordered did, but he knew that they didn’t. Well, at least Wally would have a simple way to identify him. Crap, he had those on during the ransom video, didn’t he? Hopefully, no one made the connection and shouted it to the world, *cough* Artemis *cough*.

Looking around him, he saw two loaves of bread, some canned food with a can opener, thankfully, a few boxes of what looked like protein bars, and a ton of water. He counted 23 water bottles. That would last him a while.

Dick sighed and leaned back, then clicked the flashlight to off. Looks like he would be here a while. Might as well save his light. He closed his eyes, and listened to the boat rocking.


	9. The Journey

Chapter 8: The Journey

The cargo ship _CS Coyote_ pulled into the port of a busy city in early morning. The ship’s crew breathed a sigh of relief, glad to see land after a particularly grueling voyage. Although they had expected the trip to last two and a half weeks, rough seas and a small problem with the navigation system had led to a three week journey.

As the ship was secured to dock, several companies arrived to receive their wares, fighting to get first in line. One such company, Tour Trips International, pushed to the very front. The nature of their wares was time sensitive, to say the least, and the pickup crew sincerely hoped they weren’t too late.

The ship began unloading at 9:00 AM. The two vehicles, one large bus with the company logo and one smaller truck, which the company had rented, were loaded up completely by 10:00 AM. Once they were sure all wares were secured, the company drove out of the port and then directly south. After ten minutes, the smaller, nondescript truck broke and went east. After another 30 minutes of driving, the smaller truck pulled off the road into an isolated grove where a couple black vans were parked and began to unload there.

Dick’s box was the third off the ship and most secured, having the smaller truck to himself due to the amount of paranoia attached to a billionaire’s son. He would have tried to escape or make noise at the very least, but as _CS Coyote_ was pulling into port early that morning, a device hidden near the top of his box broke open a smoke tablet and knocked him out with an extremely mild airborne sedative. The sedative was designed to last four hours, more or less, and would actually only make a healthy adult sleepy, so the company pick up crew had waited until the boat slowed and was tying up to activate it. The last thing they wanted was for the ware that had finally arrived to be eradicated when it was so close to pick up. The boss would have been furious, and probably would have shot the messenger, if the injuries of the few who’d gone in reporting the ship’s tardiness were any indicator.

As it was, the truck reached the grove two and a half hours after the sedative had been applied. Working quickly, the driver and his partner pulled the medium container out of the back of the truck and placed it as gently as they could on the ground. With a crowbar and arm strength, they removed the top from the box and dropped it on the ground with a loud clatter. Reaching inside, the partner wrapped his arms around a skinny frame, and set it in a nearby chair.

The boy was cocooned in the blanket, fully unconscious. Even if the tablet had not activated, he probably still would have been helpless. The longer-than-expected journey had robbed him of all energy, and he had run out of food at least three days ago. While he had not completely run out of water—partially because he recycled it—he was dehydrated enough that it was impossible for him to raise his voice above a whisper, and difficult to speak at all. He had no energy to stand, much less walk, run, or fight.

The driver took the prisoner’s pulse. Determining the pulse to be too weak, he pulled out a bottle of Gatorade—for hydration as well as calories—and tipped the Gatorade into his mouth. Once about half the bottle, the amount the driver believed the young teen’s body could handle at the moment, was gone, the partner placed an oxygen mask over the kid’s mouth and nose. Tucking the oxygen tank into the blanket cocoon, the partner picked the ware up and placed him into a crate that he just barely fit inside curled into a ball. Cramming the oxygen tank in next to the boy, the partner put the top on, and picked up the box.

The two men with cargo moved to one of the vans outside, placed the box in, and drove away from the grove. All this took place within the span of twenty minutes. They then added a few extra hours to their route to switch cars, and occasionally boxes for their cargo, in order to throw off potential pursuers. Whenever the two men would switch cars, they would switch drivers between the two of them. Whoever was not driving would climb into the back of whatever car they were using with the cargo, and take the top off whatever container they were using at the moment. He would check the body’s pulse and the tank’s oxygen levels, and then remove the mask briefly to give the boy some more Gatorade. They went through three bottles total over the trip. If there was another container to move the boy to, he would do so, and attach the oxygen mask to a new tank if the old one was running low on oxygen after the tank and boy were both crammed in. If there was not a new container, the mask would simply be reattached.

Three times during the journey, the car met up with other cars and added new cargo to the car exchange and switched out one of the men. By the end of the ride, there were five sacks of skin and bone in a van in addition to the two drivers.

Around the second switch/ first container switch, not including the one in the grove, Dick began to stir. The original driver had deemed that another sedative would do more harm than help and not truly improve his cooperativeness because of his current state of weakness. Rather than giving him one anyways, the men currently in charge of the boy rewrapped his blanket cocoon tighter, although no longer over his head, making sure it was tightest around his feet. They placed a cloth blindfold around his head, and left it at that. It was enough. Dick couldn’t move a muscle when he awoke.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick knew the instant he was aware he was no longer in dreamland that he was off the ship. The rolling sensation was gone and replaced by the smooth drone of a car engine. Great. Moved while unconscious. He resisted the urge to sigh. He felt more cramped as well. When he tried to stretch out, he discovered that he was in a much smaller container, and that he had somehow been bound firmer, which was odd because he could only feel the scratchy, definitely-not-blood red blanket around him. The world spun when he shifted his head slightly, making him feel nauseous. The area was still dark, but he could feel something on his face. He assumed he had a blindfold on. The car sounds were soothing, and strangely comforting, and Dick was lulled back to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time Dick awoke, it was to the slamming of car doors and then to voices outside the car. The car was stopped for the moment. Rather than try to figure out what they were saying, like he might have earlier in his journey, Dick went back to sleep. He really didn’t have enough energy for anything more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The final time Dick awoke, it was when the truck arrived at its destination and the man driving went around and removed the oxygen tanks and shut them off. At this point, the wares were all in body bags. Some of the men who had been at the earlier stop exchanges had beat them there, and stood now to pick up a body bag or two each and carry them to what Dick would learn was officially called the “Special Processing Section,” but was more commonly called the “Target Dump.” Everybody who went there was either special order, special interest, or more trouble than the average subject. 

While Dick couldn’t see this happening, he did feel the air change, something being removed from his face, something hard and round being moved from his side, and then being picked up and carried somewhere. By about halfway through the boat voyage, he had stopped caring about his fate in favor of focusing on hunger and thirst, while attempting to keep a rational mind.

In the Target Dump, four boys and a girl were pulled from the body sacks. Their bindings were undone and blindfolds removed. The nurses gave them a quick wash and dressed them. Then, the kids were placed in hospital beds to recover from their ordeal, which only special subjects went through. 


	10. New Birds

Chapter 9: New Birds

“This is stupid,” Jason, or, more accurately at this moment, Robin said as Batman drove to the Zeta Tubes. Batman glanced at his second son, but said nothing.

“I mean, I’ve been on patrol. Isn’t that enough? I don’t need to join Dick’s little league, too.”

“No names in costume.”

Robin snorted. There was silence for a few seconds and then, “It’s not like they’ll like me. They’d never think I was Golden Boy; they know him too well. Wa- Kid Flash and probably Artemis will know instantly that it’s me, and the rest of the team may put two and two together about, you know, both Robin and Robin’s identity going missing at the same time.” More silence. “Are you even going to tell them he’s missing? It’s been over a month and you’ve already got them searching for him.”

“The Robin they know is currently on an extended undercover mission where he cannot make contact without revealing his position. You are filling in to-”

“Throw off public suspicion. I know. I know. Contingency Plan Jaybird. Doesn’t make it any easier or more preferable…” Batman glanced at his son again. Jason was fidgeting, something that he didn’t do very often in general.

Batman pulled into an abandoned alleyway and parked. He and Jason got out and then he set an electric lock, so that no one (else) could steal the tires, or any other parts for that matter. They set down through the alleyways until they reached an abandoned phone booth. Batman ushered Jason inside, and went ahead to Mount Justice in order to authorize him.

“Recognized. Batman 02. Recognized Robin B13. Authorization. Batman 02.”

“ROBIN! Oh my god! Where have you been? Why haven’t you been answering your messages? You have a lot of—,” Zatanna paused as she slid into the mission room, the rest of the team trailing after her. Her face turned from excitement to confusion and disappointment. “You’re not Robin.”

Jason crossed his arms and scowled, glaring at the floor.

“Batman, what is the meaning of this?” Aqualad asked, studying the distraught kid next to Batman.

“Hey RJ. Batman promoting you?” Wally greeted Jason softly, the circles under his eyes showing prominently.

“Yeah.” Jason muttered.

“Team, this is Robin,” Batman started.

“Junior,” Jason interrupted.

“Robin, Junior,” Batman amended. “He’s Robin’s younger brother and will be taking over for Robin until Robin gets back.” He paused, studying the expressions of those in front of him. None of them looked happy, but only Zatanna and Jason really looked upset. Superboy, Miss Martian, and Aqualad looked perplexed, while Wally remained in the perpetual state of worry he’d been in since Robin disappeared, and Artemis looked like she’d seen this coming. “On missions, you will call him Robin, and behave accordingly, so that the villains do not catch on that he isn’t Robin. In your free time…” Batman trailed off, mostly because he didn’t really know what they should call Jason in their free time.

“During free time, you can call me RJ, like Wally does, or any other appropriate name unless I nix it.” Jason said.

“When will Robin be returning?” Aqualad asked.

Batman ignored the question. “We’ve located footage from a warehouse near Savannah, Georgia of one of the suspects in the Wayne case about a week after Richard’s disappearance. Richard Grayson may or may not have been held at that dock. Your mission is to investigate and determine if he was there and for how long.”

“Where’s Robin? Why won’t you tell us anything about him? He said he would be here, almost a month ago, and he never came, never told us he would be gone. What’s really going on Batman? Why’s he getting replaced?” Zatanna glared at the older hero.

“Robin is on a secret, undercover mission-”

“Bull. Tell us the truth. We’re Robin’s team. We deserve to know.”

“Zatanna-”

“Don’t ‘Zatanna’ me! Wally’s barely eating in comparison to how much he should be as a speedster and looks like he’s barely slept in weeks. Red Arrow looks much the same, although that could be in part due to his other issues. None of the Leaguers will look us in the eye when we ask about him, meaning they know something as well, but won’t tell us unless you give them the go ahead. In fact, they didn’t even tell us he was on a mission until after you did. Is Robin actually on a mission? Or is that just how you’re hiding his disappearance?”

“You have your mission,” Batman muttered to Aqualad underneath Zatanna's rant

“That’s it, isn’t it? Robin’s missing and you don’t want anyone to know. Well, we, as his team and friends, deserve to know! Why aren’t we looking? If he’s missing, we should be out there looking for him, not some stupid little rich kid!”

“Recognized Batman 02.”

“Hey! Don’t leave me here!” Jason winced as all eyes, including Zatanna's wrathful ones, turned to him. He fought the urge to run after Batman.

“Team to the Bioship.” While they started to the hangar, Aqualad paused and put a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “RJ, Welcome to the team.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick sat up on the bed and crossed his legs. Careful not to pull out his IV, he tapped his head to make sure his goggles were still there, and reached for his bowl of soup. Careful not to spill it on the soft, white clothes he’d woken up in shortly after his arrival, he began to slowly sip at the soup. As he ate, he observed the room around him. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been in the room, and how long it had been since he was kidnapped from the alleyway, but it felt like ages had passed. There was a nurse in full scrubs over by one of the other kids, a girl with light brown hair and tan skin, faded by the lack of light. She had yet to fully wake up and looked to be about ten or eleven.

Including the girl and Dick, there had been five children in the room the first time Dick was full aware of his surroundings. Since then, a sandy haired boy who looked to be 15 had fully recovered and was removed from the room to go to whatever came next. Another boy, who Dick didn’t really remember, had passed in the night, waking the other kids when the machine next to his bed had flat lined. The doctor and nurses had tried to save him, but to no avail. The body was gone the next morning, but the event had succeeded in rattling the other children.

The last of the room’s occupants was a small boy of maybe four or five years. All Dick could see of him was a dark ball of hair. Dick could tell he was a fighter, though. He was the only one who Dick had heard speak. He had attempted to stab one of the nurses with a scalpel and probably would have succeeded if another nurse hadn’t spotted him moving and stopped him. The boy had struggled to get up, shouting profanity at the nurses in Arabic, although his shouts were slightly below normal volume to everyone else. The nurses ended up tying him down and giving him a mild sedative. The boy had a bad reaction to it, and developed a small fever.

Dick was impressed. He wished he could show that much strength and energy, but the first month or so of starvation had eroded his muscles to the point where all movements were flimsy. He was finally regaining his strength, but had yet to regain his ability to speak above a whisper. Still, it was the thought that counted. When Batman got ahold of these numbskulls…Well, it would put the kid’s efforts to shame; that’s for sure.

The door slid open with a hiss, prompting Dick’s eyes to flick towards it. To his uneasiness, another nurse, the doctor, and a tall man with several obscure piercings, tattoos, and long hair pulled back into a ponytail entered. The tall man was carrying a case and Dick involuntarily shuddered. He had seen the tall man once before, a few days before the sandy haired boy had been declared recovered and moved on. They had closed the curtains—kind of like they were doing now—and then there had been soft murmured voices and then the sandy haired boy started screaming. Dick scooted as far back on his bed as he could, away from the strange man. Along the way, he upset his mostly empty bowl of soup and, painfully, yanked his IV out.

The evil doctor frowned disapprovingly, and then gestured to the two nurses. They moved to Dick’s end of the bed. The doctor picked up the clipboard. “He is gaining strength slowly, but smoothly, as expected. I believe he is ready. Vital signs normal. He still has about ten pounds to gain to be considered normal. Do you know his number? It’s the one we accidentally skipped in the last batch.” The tall man nodded.

“Huh?” Dick asked.

One of the nurses gripped Dick firmly around the middle and grasped Dick’s right arm close around his body. The other flattened out Dick’s legs, to which Dick fought valiantly but ultimately failed. The second nurse held Dick’s ankles so that his legs would remain straight. While this was happening, the tall man set his case down on the bed and began to pull out tools. Finding the ones he wanted, he sat down on Dick’s legs with practiced ease. Dick gasped at the sudden pressure on his legs. Heart sinking, Dick saw that the tall man had grabbed a tattoo needle. The second nurse let go of Dick’s ankles, and pulled Dick’s left arm out and taut. 

He bit his lip to keep from screaming as the needle entered his skin repeatedly. Ten agonizing minutes later, the tattoo devil, as Dick decided the tall man’s name would be, finished and wrapped the raw tattoo up. The second nurse released Dick’s arm and he automatically brought it close to his chest.

“We’re done here, for now,” The doctor said. They cleaned up and left Dick alone with his pounding arm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not long after Dick gained his tattoo, the room cleared of nurses. Knowing he was probably leaving soon and realizing they had, likely accidentally, overlooked his IV for the time being, Dick wrapped his blanket around himself. He heaved himself to his feet and, using the rolling IV pole for support, wandered over to visit the room’s smallest occupant. The small boy was still strapped down to the bed. He looked to be about three feet tall and scrawny like the rest of the kids in the room. Messy black hair stood out against sickly skin, cheeks red with fever. He kind of looked like a mini Bruce.

In addition to a plethora of mostly healed bruises, there was an old, small cut by the kid’s right eye. It almost looked like a sword nick. Dick reached his right hand out, still clutching his left to his chest protectively, and moved the boy’s hair out of his eyes, to get a better look. The kid’s eyes shot open and he instantly tried to escape his confines, causing Dick to jump back reflexively, and almost fall. Finding there was very little give in the straps, especially in his current state of health, the kid stopped struggling and fixed Dick with a fierce, hate-filled glare.

Dick blinked at the glare. Yep. He definitely looked like Bruce. Icy blue eyes intensified the effect. With a little bit of tweaking, this kid would have the perfect mini-Batglare. Dick wondered briefly if they were related, but decided probably not. Bruce would have told Dick if he had another son, and that other son would probably live in the manor with them. Jason did. Dick gave a small smile.

Noticing that his glare was having the opposite effect than what he intended. The boy opened his mouth and spewed out in Arabic. _“Untie me, you simpleton. You snatched the wrong kid. When my grandfather hears about this, he will come in with his army and tear this place to pieces and kill everyone inside with a sword and then kill you, and then—“_

 _“Your threats need some work.”_ Dick interrupted; glad Bruce had insisted he learn Arabic. _“And some more information. I’m actually as much of a prisoner here as you are. Except I can walk and you can’t.”_ He was kind of impressed that the kid had such a large vocabulary though. You know, for a four year old. He reached forward and undid the straps as he spoke. _“You will want to stay in bed. You have a fever, and would not make it far if you tried to run. Wait until you are better, and I would be glad to help you.”_

The kid was silent for a minute, the glare softening on his face to be replaced by an expression of uncertainty. He jumped up the instant the straps were off, but almost immediately fell, probably due to swimming vision caused by the fever. Dick caught him, and gently guided him back into bed.

 _“What’s your name?”_ Dick prodded, pulling the covers over the kid’s shivering body and tucking him in. The kid didn’t answer, looking at him in confusion. “ _I’m_ Dick.”

 _“That is not a name. That is an appendage. Do not take me for a fool.”_ The kid spat out, going back to his glare, but there was no fire behind either action. Dick’s smile grew.

 _“Well, I’ll concede that point. But_ Dick _is my name. It’s short for_ Richard.”

 _“Oh… My mother said that I have a brother called_ Richard, _but that he is undignified swine not worthy of my father’s attention and that I shall eventually take his place because I am superior.”_

 _“…”_ Dick stared at him. That was an odd idea. Sounded like a direct quote. Did the kid even understand fully what he was saying? _“Okay… What does your father say about that? And since you have not told me your name. I’m tempted to call you_ Toothless.”

 _“_ Toothless? _Where do you get a despicable name like that?”_ Dick decided to wait. _“My name is_ Damian… _”_ The kid said finally, looking down at the sheets. _“I have never met my father.”_ Dick opened his mouth to respond when a hand grasped his shoulder.

“What are you doing out of bed?” An angry nurse asked Dick. The nurse dragged Dick away from Damian and plunked him down on his bed. He forced Dick to lie down, while he reattached the IV and took several measurements. Dick tried to sit up, but the nurse pushed him back down again and pulled out the straps, binding him to the bed.

“Hey!” Dick said, struggling against the binds. The nurse made sure they were secure, inserted something into Dick’s IV, and left.

Damian poked his head up and twisted to look at Dick, blinking hard to get rid of his dizziness. Dick demonstrated his helplessness briefly, causing Damian to give a small smirk. Dick gave him a smile back, glad to see some improvement, and then leaned back down and sighed. So much for socializing.


	11. Dami's Story

Chapter 10: Dami’s Story

Although he would never admit it, Damian was scared. These peasants had managed to successfully subdue him, with a bit of effort, and then had the nerve to laugh about it, to laugh at him! The bluemen, as Damian decided their official name would be, were really strong, but they should have fear of his grandfather. Grandfather would not stand the cruelty dealt upon him… Would he? Actually, it was well within Grandfather’s domain to give tasks such as Damian to those lesser than he, but surely not as low as peasants. That would be an insult! No one untrustworthy was to know about Damian.

But… Where was Grandfather? If this was not sanctioned, as Damian suspected, then Grandfather’s Shadows should have burst in by now to rescue him. Grandfather would not allow him to be on his own for so long, unless he knew where he was and what he was doing. Like the time Grandfather had made Damian climb the mountain peaks earlier this year. Damian made it up on his own; it was expected, but Grandfather had known where he was and what he was doing. Damian was too important of an asset to lose.

What had happened? Surely these simpletons could not have defeated Grandfather. He was invincible! He had an army of Shadows to protect him, and, if that was not enough, he had the Lazarus Pits to heal him. No, he could not be defeated.

Wait, was he looking for Damian? He had to be looking, right? Damian had given him no reason not to… Oh wait, Damian thought back, yes he had. Damian had run away. Maybe this was his punishment. That would make sense.

Damian thought back to when he had first encountered the simpleton’s partners.

_It was a cloudy morning in Baghdad, Iraq, and a small boy was wandering the streets, following the crowd. Earlier, he had been traveling with his mother and a few Shadows, but, after an argument with his mother over… something—he could not remember what it had been about—he had run off into the crowded streets. He had no doubt that the Shadows would find him later. They always did. His mother was in town for some business meeting and would be here for the next week, so they might let him wander around on his own for a while._

_Whatever happened, he knew where the hotel was. On the slim chance he might not actually remember the way, he knew how to read a map. An ah Ghul did not ask for directions, so he did not fully understand that idea, but he did know how to ask for a map. He could speak three languages: Arabic, English, and some of French; However, his mother was planning to teach him more. Perhaps, Russian or Spanish or Swahili._

_Damian turned into a small alleyway. He was looking down at his feet, steaming about the argument with his mother, when he heard a small sound behind him. He froze, and then slowly turned around. Behind him was a huge man, bigger than Ubu even. Damian’s eyes traveled up the man’s feet to his face, which was covered with a facemask._

_That was when Damian did something that brought shame upon his ancestors. He stayed frozen as the man reached for him, leering. When the man got close, Damian punched him in the groin (Damian was too small to knee him there, so settled for the next best thing) and tried to run, just to run straight into a second man, who was almost as big. The second man grabbed him in a firm hold. Damian screamed and struggled, but to no avail. His blows, while practiced and precise, had no effect on the man holding him and were losing power and precision as Damian began to panic. PANIC! Grandfather would have been so disappointed. Something pricked his arm, and, after about a minute, Damian succumbed to darkness._

_After leaving Baghdad, Damian began a hellish journey across the European continent by land and ferry with the simpletons. At first, Damian had been kept with other children his age and older. Damian was fairly certain that the oldest amongst them was at least three times his age and three times his size. There was maybe five to ten of them to start but the number grew every few days._

_Nevertheless, Damian masterminded an escape plan. When they were passing through a mountain range, in Switzerland Damian believed, he set his plan into motion. The bus stopped for a break in a hidden enclave and the prisoners were allowed to stretch their legs. The guards kept watch with their eyes and semi-automatics trained on the group. At their last rest stop, Damian had come across three rusted nails. They would do the trick. Carefully, he slid from the guards’ view and crawled underneath the bus. He stuck the nails into the front tires. It would take a while for the air to lower enough that they would have to pull over. Phase 1 complete._

_Damian snuck back out and rejoined the other prisoners. However, he had been gone just long enough for one of the simpletons to notice his absence. An iron grip clamped on to his thin shoulder. Damian jumped with a yelp. How had the imbecile managed to sneak up on him? Damian was better than that! He must have been too absorbed in his plan to realize…_

_Damian writhed, kicking and spitting, as the man steered him to another one of the guards, and held him still while the second guard tied his arms behind his back. Damian got one good kick in before he was hauled off his feet and deposited into the seat in the middle of the bus that had been dubbed the “troublemaker seat” by the guards. His captor sat next to him, pinning him in as the other kids were loaded onto the bus, the guards taking the front seats, back seats, and seats near the emergency exits. The bus took off back onto the road._

_The bus was nearing an exit when the driver noticed that the tires were failing._

_“I’ve got a flat.” He told the guards up front. “I need to pull over.”_

_“Fine. You have a spare?”_

_“I do.”_

_Damian felt the bus began to slow and move over to the shoulder. He looked out the window and saw an exit a quarter mile ahead. “Perfect,” he thought. Some of the men got off the bus. Damian waited until the guard next to him was distracted. The guard was an inconvenience Damian was fairly certain he could work around. While the guards outside made noise, Damian maneuvered his hands in front of him, ducked down under the seat, and crawled to the front of the bus as quickly and quietly as he could. When he reached the front, he took a brief second in the now empty front seat to wiggle his hands out of the ropes. Then, he quietly snuck off the bus._

_As soon as he set a bare foot on the ground, he heard a shout from the middle of the bus. The guard had discovered his disappearance. Reacting more than thinking, Damian took off like a shot away from the bus to the forest cover near the side of the highway. As he reached the woods, he felt a wind whistle past his back, coming close but missing. Damian kept running, and slipped on the wet leaves and small bits of snow. He tumbled down a hill and hit a tree midway down._

_Groaning, he heard the sounds of people following him, albeit a bit more carefully. Damian scrambled to his feet in time to dodge a kick to the head. He instantly sprung into battle pose. This time, he would go down fighting or not at all. The man pulled back for a punch and Damian punched him in a pressure point on his side. Then another one and another one as the man faltered._

_Just as the first man went down, two more took his place, and Damian was reminded that he was halfway down a steep slippery slope. The second man kneed Damian in the stomach while the third grabbed at his upper body to immobilize him. Damian aimed for the pressure points again on the second man, but his wrist was caught by the third man. Damian responded by attempting to kick the second man in the groin, crude but effective, however the bigger man merely moved back slightly to put himself outside Damian’s range. The third man caught Damian’s other wrist as Damian again attempted to punch the man in front of him._

_Pulling Damian’s wrists above his head, the third man dangled Damian like a punching bag, about a foot off the ground. The second man rained blows onto the small boy’s body until he stopped thrashing and hung limp. Damian’s eyes were full of tears that he refused to cry, but he was too injured to effectively defend himself. The second man looked into Damian’s eyes, and then nodded once to the third man, who dropped Damian._

_The second man sneered at Damian as he struggled to his feet unsteadily. Damian wavered and looked up at his captors, fighting dark spots. He closed his eyes tight, and swallowed his tears. Composed, he sprung out with a punch, startling the two men when it connected with unexpected force with the second man’s upper thigh. Before Damian could land a second hit, the third man grabbed him around the stomach, pinning his arms to his side. Damian gave a half-hearted attempt to struggle as the men switched into some language other than one of the ones Damian knew, and spoke in soft murmurs._

_The two men looked back at the first man who Damian had downed with a look of disgust. Then, the second man raised his gun, which he’d strangely kept away while beating up Damian, and shot the first man in the head before Damian could make the smallest noise of protest. The two men turned back to their captive, and then the second man raised the gun, and hit Damian in the head with the butt of it._

_When Damian next awoke, he was surrounded by darkness. He reached out, discovered his hands were bound together in front of him, and felt walls all around. His stomach dropped, especially when he realized there was an oxygen mask around his face. He was in a moving vehicle, but it didn’t feel bumpy like the bus, smoother, less big. The guards must have decided he was too big a threat to keep with the other prisoners._

_Damian didn’t know it, but three children had managed to escape and go for help while he had kept the guards distracted. They made it to a nearby town and called the police, but the police waited half an hour to ensure back up was on the way before going, and so didn’t make it on time. They found an abandoned bus, a dead adult body in the woods, and three seriously injured preteens, two of which would die from their wounds, and the third of which would slip into a coma, and wake up four months later to be grilled by the Justice League who were hard on the trail of the kidnappers._

_Six additional kids had attempted to escape. One, an eight year old girl, had hidden under the bus while the other five kids and the four who weren’t brave enough to try to run were loaded into black vans along with Damian, who was placed in an airtight box with an oxygen tank. One of the guards had called for the vans the second they climbed off the bus to do repairs. Originally, they had planned to simply get a better tire to replace the spare, but when they saw that two tires had been damaged with obvious sabotage, they decided that it would be better to leave the bus behind. One of the guards wiped down the bus as they waited while the rest guarded the children and made sure none were stupid enough to attempt another escape. They continued on their way, trading vehicles every now and then to throw any pursuers off their trail._

About a week later, Damian was transferred to a car with four other boxes in it, which he knew because the men had counted. He had been given small amounts of water and some of a weird red drink during his time in the box. They were transferred to body bags at one point and into stiff beds at another. When Damian came to enough to realize he was untied, he fought back, but to no avail.

The contact with the weird boy named Dick was about the friendliest contact he’d had since one of his nannies gave him a lollipop a long time ago. It was odd that he would get friendliness from another in the same mess as he was, as evidenced by Dick being tied down as well, but Damian appreciated it. For a second, he even managed a small smile. Maybe, maybe there was a way out of this.


	12. Explanations

Chapter 11: Explanations

The blue-uniformed nurse kept a firm grip on Dick's arm as he and another nurse led the boy down the hallway. Dick stumbled at the pace, unable to see anything through the dark blindfold. He was pretty sure that the man was leading him in circles. Joke was on him though. Dick would remember every turn. It had been a right, a left, two rights, a slight left, a sharp right, and a left… no a right! And then a left? Oh… Maybe the man did know what he was doing. Tati would be disappointed.

They stopped. Dick heard a ding, a sliding sound as doors slid open, and he was pushed forward. A second later, there was a second sliding sound as the doors slid closed and he felt himself moving up for a while. After the elevator came to a stop, Dick was shoved forward and led through several more turns. Eventually, they stopped again, and the nurse not holding Dick typed something into a keypad. Dick heard a sliding sound, and then the jingling of keys as the nurse unlocked the door. He opened it and they shoved Dick inside. Then, they closed and locked the door behind him.

Dick waited a second, and then slowly removed the blindfold. He blinked a few times at the sudden sensation of daylight. Daylight. Dick couldn't remember the last time he saw day. It must have been the day he was kidnapped. That was so long ago. He closed his eyes and basked in the sunlight for a few minutes.

Far too soon for Dick's liking, he opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. The room was a muted blue color. One side of the room had purple swirls on it, and small designs, some of which were covered up by other designs. There were three beds, two desks that doubled as nightstands, and two lamps that almost looked glued to the desk. A wooden chair sat in front of each desk. Beneath each bed, there was a dresser with three drawers. There were leather belts with metal buckles tucked under each bed, one near each foot of the bed, and another couple near the middle. Dick shivered uneasily.

All the beds had stark white sheets on them. One of the beds by the window was messy. The desk next to it had a small stack of what looked like textbooks, and a sketch pad. There was a small paint pallet, some dull crayons, and a stylus, which looked like it couldn't be sharp if it wanted to be. There was also some paper strewn around, some of it flat, the rest of it either crumbled or in origami shapes. Dick counted three swans and a frog amongst innumerable origami stars and cubes. The wall behind the messy bed held several small pictures, partially hidden by the covers, expertly painted.

Dick moved to the other bed by the window, which was right next to the third bed so that someone could easily cross one bed to get to the other, if need be. He slid out of the slippers the nurses had given him before he left the Target Dump and knelt down to see what was in the dressers. Just then, there was a bzzzzt sound, and the sound of footsteps and voices filled the hallway. Small and large footsteps and nervous chatter. One set stopped outside Dick's door.

After a few seconds, there was the clattering of keys. The door was unlocked and the sandy haired boy from the Target Dump was pushed in. Sandy sighed, tossed a bag across the room, and walked to his bed, hopping on and kicking off slippers similar to Dick's. Then, he froze, and slowly looked up to meet the curious eyes of his new roommate.

"Gah! Where did you come from?"

Dick frowned. That was a very chalant greeting. He answered nonchalantly, yet softly because his voice still hadn't come all the way back by now. "Oh, you know. That room downstairs that has kids in it. You were there a bit ago, I think."

"Oh. You were in the Target Dump with me? I guess that explains why you're so skinny." Sandy said relaxing. Dick nodded. "I'm Alex, but someone is trying to get the name Cloudy to catch on."

"Dick."

"Hey!"

"No! My name is Dick!"

"Oh… That's a weird name."

"It's a nickname for Richard." The two boys were silent for a moment.

"What number did you get?" Alex asked. Dick grasped what he was talking about instantly.

"169. You?"

"187. That's weird. 169 is lower than 187, isn't it? But you left the Target Dump this morning, right? I left two and a half weeks ago."

"Yeah. I think the doctor guy said something about it being one they skipped."

"Great. I thought that whoever had 169 had just died quickly, before I got out of the Target Dump or something." Alex pulled out a red bound notebook and pen from a hiding place under his mattress, and opened it. He flipped through the pages. "169… 169… Got it. How neat is your handwriting, Richie?"

"Don't call me Richie. What is that?" Dick furrowed his nose, watching as Alex retrieved his bag and searched though it for a pen.

"Do you have a last name?"

"Yeah, Grayson." Dick replied distractedly, "What is that?"

"Like Billionaire Bruce Wayne's son?"

"The same." He said awkwardly. Even in a kidnapping situation, in a different country, he was instantly recognized as a rich kid. No wonder Tati put such a large emphasis on keeping Robin and Dick separate.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was kidnapped, weren't you? What's the book?"

"Oh. Yeah." Alex paused. "It's a book recording the real names, and some nicknames, of everyone who's come through here. People die and disappear fairly often, so…"

"What? Die? What is this place?"

Alex hesitated, but, at a glare from Dick, answered the question. "It's an asylum on the outside, probably to further hide the truth of the inside. No one comes here willingly. Not that they would at a real asylum, but yeah. On the inside, it's a hive of human experimentation. Everyone has been kidnapped or snatched from somewhere. I think they choose most of who they take carefully, but occasionally they grab someone in the spur of the moment.

"Most of the kids come here together on a bus, get tattooed and are delivered to rooms like this one immediately. A few of the kids are like us. Shipped here in boxes and needing time to recover in the Target Dump—it's called that because about half the people in there were specially targeted for kidnapping from rich or influential people to raise money for the experiments. The other half typically put up a hell of a fight. We're 'special order' because we need special attention. They find it extra important that we don't escape." Alex held out the book and pen to Dick, and Dick hesitantly printed his name next to the number 169. There were names printed next to all the other numbers on the page, and Alex had left a few lines below each number blank, possibly for notes or for people who write big.

"How…how many are special order? And does that mean that my Tati, and some of the other kid's parents, are essentially funding this without realizing it?"

"Yeah. Essentially. Not too many are special order compared to the rest of the kids, but we tend to, umm, survive longer, in general. Everyone on this floor who isn't a guard is special order. We have extra security. There are three more floors with kids on them above ground, but their rooms are more crowded. We have two or three or some singles. There's an average of four kids per room on the other floors and a couple dormitories with twelve on the second and third floors. There are guard rooms by the staircases and on the first floor. Uh… most of the kids here are boys, but there are some girls on the second floor and a couple rooms on this floor are girl's rooms. The most trusted kids, the ones who have been here the longest and have Stockholm Syndrome live on the fifth floor. It's all singles and doubles up there. There are a bunch of empty rooms, too. There's at least 195 kids numbered, but I've only seen about a hundred and twenty, hundred and thirty kids, so that's not encouraging. And, yeah."

Alex fiddled with a chain around his neck and watched Dick as he slowly absorbed and categorized the information he'd been given. "I don't know what the experiments are yet. They have only done preliminary stuff on me so far, and no one will talk about them. The other kids go noticeably pale when I ask, even the kids with dark skin tones."

Dick took a deep breath to calm his nerves. "What about the little kids? Damian can't be more than four or five."

"Damian?"

"The little kid in the Target Dump with us."

"Oh. Well, I have not seen any kids that young, besides him. Most of the kids are in their preteens or early teens, like eleven to thirteen or fourteen. There are some ten and younger, but none that young. Maybe… twenty total under the age of ten?" Dick's stomach dropped. That wasn't encouraging. "But, on the bright side, he'll probably be joining us here when he leaves the Target Dump. There's a third bed, and most of the special orders here room with the people they came here with."

Dick nodded mutely. At some point during the information session from Alex, he had pulled himself up onto the bed he claimed. Now, he dropped back so that he was lying down with his feet dangling off. Alex watched him quietly. "You should take a nap. We'll have dinner in a couple hours. We get dinner and breakfast in here and eat lunch in the mess with everyone else. They want to control our food intake, still. I think it's partially because they starved us on the way here, and didn't starve the other kids." Dick pulled his feet up and curled up on top of the covers, feeling overwhelmed. He faced away from Alex and tapped the goggles on his head, still not fully understanding why, or how, he still had them and no one had moved to take them away from him. He closed his eyes, and went to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours after Dick laid down to rest, he felt a hand gently shaking him. Not quite awake yet, all Dick could think was danger. Forget the gentle, tentative nature of the touch; Dick reacted with his instincts instead of rational thought. He lashed out against the person who touched him and landed a strike. The person hissed and jumped back. Dick rolled to strike again… and hit the ground with a hard thud and yelp.

"What was that for?!" A slightly familiar voice demanded. Wait, familiar, friendly, words. Crud. Dick opened his eyes and looked up at Alex with regret.

"Sorry. Instinct?" he asked more than stated.

"Some instinct. Ow." Alex glared at his new roommate and then marched back to his side of the room. "Dinner." He said, indicating a plate with some sort of mystery meat, a roll, and potatoes lying innocently on Dick's desk.

"Oh. Sorry, Alex. Did I hurt you?" The glare lessened slightly at Dick's puppy dog eyes.

"No. Just my pride. Eat. Or they'll force it down your throat." Dick startled at that statement. Alex sounded pretty serious, and Dick didn't doubt that they would try to force feed him if he didn't eat it. Fingering his goggles, he sat down at his desk and inspected the dinner he'd been given. It looked like standard fare, and he had been getting similar food in the Target Dump. Deciding that if they wanted him dead, they would not have nursed him back to health after the hellish ocean voyage, Dick began to slowly eat.

There was silence for a while, as the two boys munched on the food in front of them. The awkward silence stretched out until Dick was certain he would scream if nothing was said soon.

"So,"

"Where are you-?"

The two boys started to speak at the same time. They each gave a nervous laugh, and then said "After you," in perfect sync as well. Dick nodded to Alex, indicating he should go first.

"So, how did they get you? I mean, you're the son of a billionaire. I doubt you go a lot of places without security guards." Dick blinked at the question. It was understandable, but not what he'd been expecting. He glanced down at his goggles, before meeting Alex's eyes. He took a deep breath.

"I don't, or well, didn't actually go that many places accompanied by guards. I'm small, so I escape attention pretty easily most of the time. Being surrounded by guards all the time would draw attention to me. While they might deflect some kidnappers, they would act as a challenge to the smart ones, the ones clever and daring enough to actually consider going after the son of a billionaire. Plus, I'm fairly proficient in self-defense and have highly tuned instincts, as you just saw. They caught me while I was going to my friend's house. I was planning to tutor her for an hour in math, like I normally do on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and then go out with my best friend. I was thinking about that, so I didn't hear them coming until we were surrounded. I think they just took me, but they might have taken her too. I'm trying not to think about that part actually. She was dating my best friend, so it would have been much harder on him than how hard it actually is now if we were both taken."

Wally was probably searching the world for him. Dick imagined having Artemis there would be able to knock some sense into him. Her being there didn't mean he would stop searching, just that he wouldn't run himself to the ground or die of starvation doing it. Uncle Barry would help with that too, but not as much as Artemis. If they were both gone, then there was only so much Uncle Barry could do, and after that there'd be nothing to stop Wally. It scared Dick, to be honest.

Wally's determination was great as a pick me up but not great for Wally. Dick didn't want to come back home to find that his best friend had run out of energy over the Atlantic Ocean, fallen, and drowned or been rescued by Aquaman who had to take him to the watchtower when he wouldn't wake up, like that time when Wally was twelve and thought that going to Paris for a snack would be fun.

"Have you seen a tall, tan girl, 15 years old, with super long, curly blonde hair, by any chance?"

"No. Sorry, but like I said, they don't seem to take many girls."

"Don't apologize. That's good news. But, what about you? What's your story? Before getting snatched and how you were snatched?"

"Well, I was born in Australia, but was snatched in Rome, Italy. When I was 8, we visited Rome as a family: Mom, Dad, older sister, and me. We were planning to stay for a week, but there was an accident on the third day of our vacation, a car crash. I got thrown out of the car and rolled down the hill. I was fine because the window was open and I knew how to roll with the momentum and slow myself down, but my mom and dad were goners.

"By the time I made it back up the hill, there were polizia cars all around and mom and dad were dead. My older sister was being shoved into a cop car to be taken somewhere, probably an orphanage. She saw me first, and her face, her eyes were scared and urgent. She had cuts on her cheeks. She indicated with her head that I should run. So I did. I ran and ran until I found a hidden, abandoned alleyway and I crawled behind a dumpster and hid. I fell asleep there.

"I never saw my sister again. These psychos caught me while I was sneaking some slightly burnt but still completely edible bread out of a dumpster. I put up a pretty good fight. I knocked out three of them before the remaining two managed to get me in a solid hold and headlock. They pricked me with something, and I was on my way." Alex finished, sounding satisfied, and slightly proud of himself. He nodded, and smiled at Dick, who had been listening with interest.

"Wow. I didn't manage to get any of mine out. Art- my friend might have though. Not before I got knocked out, but before she did."

They were silent for another moment.

"That's probably another plus. Being a girl and a fighter. They probably left her behind. Otherwise, she would have been in the Target Dump with us. I've heard that they did that with a bunch of kids. Left witnesses behind, I mean."

Well, there was some relief.

"What comes next? I mean, I know I'm out of the Target Dump and stuff, but what happens tomorrow."

"Well, what happened with me was that they came and got me a little after everyone else left. They took me to a small room and tested me for everything from diseases, to allergies, to reflexes, and then tested my school skills with a million and ten tests. I can read and write, but I haven't been to school. Street smarts mostly. Somewhere in the middle, they fed me lunch. After it was all done, they brought me back here. Then, the next day, they showed me to a classroom and I joined the normal routine. They put me in a remedial class with other street rats. For you, since you've been in school and all, you might not have to do all the tests, but they probably don't want to tip anyone off by checking your school records, so yeah."

"They could just check the news. I'm pretty sure Celebrity Weekly once posted my GPA and pictures from my mathlete tournament. I think Tati sued them for it. He didn't want me in the media." Dick said with a scowl.

"You've been in a magazine?"

"Too many. The media are vultures. You don't want that part of my life. Trust me."

"I don't know. Steady meals. A dad who will give me anything I want, and a place to live comfortably all sound like they'd make up for it."

"Tell that to my brother, Jason. He was a street rat for a few years, and I think he wants to go back sometimes."

"Bruce Wayne allowed his son to live on the streets?"

"We're both his legal wards, not exactly sons, so he found us later in life. He would never leave Jason out on the streets alone. Wouldn't let me out alone either, especially not if I ever get home after this." He trailed off, looking at the slightly irritated tattoo on his forearm. "I consider Jay my brother, but I don't think Tati, I mean, Bruce sees us as sons."

"Harsh, dude."

"Yeah." Dick trailed off. He had begun officially calling Bruce Tati in his head sometime around the second week in his hellhole on the ship, but wasn't sure it was mutual.

(**Flashback time**)

_The space felt like it was closing in on him. He was hungry, but afraid to eat any more of the food in case he ran out. He had the typical, bad nightmare about his family's death, except the whole scene was rocking the whole time. Back and forth. Back and forth. They were slipping all over the place, and flew across the air as they fell._

_Then, Dingbat 3 had joined the party, and smiled at the Graysons lying broken on the ground. Dingbat 3 grabbed Dick when he tried to escape and started whispering things Dick couldn't remember, and wasn't sure he had understood, but in the rough voice he had heard at the warehouse near the dock._

_Dick woke up heaving as Dingbat 3 with help from another Dingbat who appeared out of nowhere began to drag him out of the tent while Bruce looked on, trying to get through the panicking crowd to Dick. That was all Dick remembered from the dream, although he knew there was something else in there that scared him even more, but he had blocked it out._

_All he wanted at that point was Tati. Not the man who had died, but the one trying to break through the crowd to reach him, to save him. The one who had never given up on him and never would. He had cried himself back to sleep, and thought of Bruce as Tati ever since._

(**End Flashback**)

"So I have to basically undergo a complete medical and mental examination tomorrow?"

"Essentially."

"Asterous. And they'll come get me?"

"Yeah, they don't let us out unsupervised. Heck, we're even supervised in here. See the camera." Alex pointed to a small, almost hidden camera with a blinking red light. Dick followed his eyes, noting that it was not the type of camera that recorded sound, although most people wouldn't know that. "I think if someone's super well behaved for a while, then they'll let them out of this area, and those people and the kids who came in normally are less supervised, eating all meals in the cafeteria and such. I haven't heard for sure about anyone switching though. Maybe a rich kid or two, like you, but most of us are here because we're rebellious, not obedient."

"Whelming," Dick said, unconvincingly. Having finished his dinner, he climbed back onto his bed and flopped down on his stomach, burying his head in his pillow with his arms underneath, goggles held tightly in his left hand, and then adjusting slightly so that he wasn't touching the tattoo directly.

"Asterous? Whelming?" Dick mumbled something into his pillow.

"What was that?"

"I said I'll explain later."

Alex gave him a soft smile. "Ok. Get some rest. That was a long day for me, and it might be just as long for you. Good night."

There was a muffled sound that might have been a "Night" from Dick, and then Dick passed out.


	13. Tests, tests, aaaaannnnddd more tests

Chapter 12: Tests, tests, aaaaannnnddd more tests

The next day dawned bright and early upon the two boys. At about 7:30 am, Alex roused his new roommate by throwing a pillow at him. It bounced off Dick and landed on the floor, giving Alex back his ammo. When the first three strikes failed to elicit a reaction, Alex came a little closer and studied his roommate intensely. Then, he threw his pillow again. This time, Dick caught it.

Dick turned to look at him blearily. Seeing the look of disbelief, he said, "What? I don't want to get up."

Alex smirked, and replied, "You do if you want breakfast. Those psychos will be by to take me to class in a little bit, and they'll probably take the food then too."

"When did they deliver food?"

"A few minutes ago. Before I started my pillow attack." Dick slid his legs out from under the sheets to hang off the side of the bunk. He scanned the room and found two trays of food that had been laid haphazardly on his desk.

"What is it?"

"Breakfast!"

"I know that, but what _is_ it?"

"No one knows. That's the fun of it. Look, they color coded the trays for us. Mine is blue, like it's always been, and yours is red."

"Uh…" At least the food in the Target Dump and last night had been appetizing-looking. This looked like slop and a soggy roll.

"Come on. Eat."

Dick dropped down to the ground eyeing his roommate wearily, and stepped over to his desk. He took one bite of the food, and made a face. "Blegh," Definitely not up to Alfred's standards. Alfred would probably toss it in the trash, take out the trash bag, set it on fire, and drop a batbomb on it to be sure. And if that wasn't enough, Alfred would also scatter the ashes to the four winds. Alex grinned at his face. He started eating as well.

"My guess is they'll wait to get you until everyone else is in class. They take us in spurts. I think that's what happened last time, but I didn't have a roommate, so no way to know for sure."

There was a buzz sound, and they heard the door unlocking. "Shoot," Alex said, and started stuffing as much food as possible into his mouth. He was able to shove the majority of his breakfast in, because he had eaten a little while waiting for his roommate to awaken. He grabbed the roll as one of the nurses entered, to lead him out. He said something muffled to Dick, who cocked his head at him, and then left with the nurse. The door was locked again.

Dick poked at his food, as he waited for someone to come get him. He heard other kids getting let out of their rooms down the hall. After a little while, he finished the glop on his plate, and turned towards the door. The noise in the hall quieted down as it emptied.

Eventually, he heard two sets of footprints coming back. They stopped in front of his door, unlocked it, and opened it. A nurse came inside and glanced at a clipboard.

"Alright, 169. It's time for your check up." She glanced up at Dick, and flicked her head to the door. He got up, eyeing her wearily, and walked out. The nurse already outside took his arm, and they led him down the hall, around a few turns, down a flight of stairs, and across to an examination room containing a raised, padded bench with plastic on it, a rolling stool, and some medical equipment. They sat him down on the bench.

Dick watched as they locked the door. He didn't think all these precautions were necessary. Even if the door was unlocked and there was no one watching him, he probably wouldn't run. He had no idea where he was, although he imagined it was the middle of nowhere. He was still weak from the voyage to reach here, at least, weaker than he had been when he'd been kidnapped. Plus, he had no supplies, no real shoes, and would probably freeze to death before he could contact help. No, it was probably better to play the helpless rich kid until a better opportunity presented itself.

Not for the first time, Dick hoped Artemis was okay. She was older than the range Alex had given him, but that didn't mean anything. They might not have noticed the age difference, or seriously injured her, or killed her. He hadn't seen any sign of her, and he wasn't sure that was a good thing.

The doctors did the usual check-up stuff. They checked his reflexes, blood pressure, and heart rate. Then, they pulled out a needle and took some blood. One of the nurses put it in the slot by the door, while the other pulled Dick's shirt off. They checked his flexibility, and then the female nurse seemed to feel it necessary to touch and document every scar on Dick's body. _Every_ scar. When they finished, he felt extremely violated. He curled in on himself slightly, gritting his teeth and resisting the urge to punch someone.

They let him redress. They stood for a while, as if waiting for something. The two nurses studied Dick intensely, and he swung his feet back and forth, looking up at them. Someone knocked on the door, and passed some papers through. They looked through them and then nodded. The female nurse gently pushed him onto his back, and started asking him standard medical questions. Stuff like "Do you have a family history of heart attacks?" "Do you have any allergies?" and such. Dick answered honestly with nods and shakes of his head, seeing that it would probably hurt him if he didn't.

When they were done, the nurses strapped Dick down, causing him to roll his eyes. Then, to his surprise, they left. He craned his neck up to try to see where they went, and dropped back down when they closed and locked the door. Seriously overdoing the restraints here. At least he hadn't had to talk to them yet. Dick wondered if they would notice if he underperformed on the mental and educational tests he'd have to take later. Probably math, but who knew about the others.

After about an hour, during which Dick got so bored that he started banging his head on the bench, the nurses returned with a plate of food and released him from the bench. They then watched creepily as he carefully inspected his food and ate it as slowly as possible.

After he finished eating, they took his blood _again_ , and then led him from the examination room to a small office. They sat him down in a chair that was bolted to the ground. The female nurse gave him a mechanical pencil and an eraser, while the male nurse chained his ankle to the chair. Did he mention how sick he was getting of all these stupid restraints? Yeah…

"Take this test," the female nurse said, and dropped a ginormous stack of papers on the desk in front of Dick. He gapped at it. That had to be some fifty pages. At least! He looked at the nurse, who was glaring at him. Better get started then. He opened the test, and set to work.

The test was mostly math and science. Dick answered all the math questions honestly, but for the science questions he followed a pattern of one honest, one less obviously wrong, two honest, one less obviously wrong, three honest, one less obviously wrong, four honest, one less obviously wrong, and redo the cycle. When he finally finished, an hour and a half later, he sighed with relief and handed the test to the nurse who'd been watching him. She nodded, took it, and left. Dick did some stretches, while waiting for her to come back and take him back to his new room.

However, when she returned, she carried another fifty page stack. He looked at it with disbelief. Well, there had not been any lit or history on the first test. It made sense they would have a second one. He wilted, but took this test as well, following the pattern he had used for Science. It took him two hours to finish the second one.

When the second test was finished, the nurse went and got a third test. Internally, Dick was begging for it to end.

"What could this one possibly be on?" he demanded when the nurse returned, deciding speaking was worth the answer.

"Foreign languages," she said. He blinked, not having actually expected an answer. "Answer honestly. We heard you speaking to the other kid in the special processing section. If you speak more languages, you could translate for some of the kids here."

Dick considered his options. He could be completely honest, and do all the languages he knew, but that might make them slightly suspicious as he only took a couple in school and it was only truly reasonable for him to know one or two in addition. On the other hand, he would have more contact with other kids, and maybe be more valuable. That would make being killed less likely to happen. Pros outweighed the cons, although he decided he would keep one or two languages secret. Maybe they wouldn't test him on those.

Reluctantly taking the packet, Dick flipped through the see what languages were in it. Unsurprisingly, they were the most common ones: English, French, Spanish, and Arabic along with a few others. He took the test in about an hour, and handed it back to the nurse. She graded it in front of him. Next, she forced him to do a speaking portion for the ones she had determined were actual knowledge of languages instead of lucky guesses. Once that was finished, she left the room, locking the door behind her, of course.

Thinking he was finally finished with the written exams, Dick slumped down in his seat, exhausted. The ankle cuff inhibited him for stretching out all the way like a typical teenager, but he made do with the maneuverability he had. Ugh. Did every kid here have to go through this? It must have taken them ages to get through everyone!

A half hour ticked by on a clock in the corner before Dick heard people returning. However, instead of the nurse coming to bring him back to his room, a new man was let in. He was relatively short, standing only a few inches to half a foot taller than Dick, with dark glasses that reminded him of Doctor Strange from Belle Reve and a prominent bald spot surrounded by dark hair.

Great, another psycho. Dick thought. This guy was apparently here to take stock of his personality, to play psychiatrist. He made Dick take yet another written test. This one was about his personality traits. It took a good half hour. By the time he was done, Dick was ready to eat dinner, his stomach giving off an impressive growl.

Unfortunately, the psychiatrist seemed to think that now was an appropriate time to mark the test, agonizingly slowly in front of his patient, and then, as if they hadn't done enough tests already, he pulled out a stack of cards with black ink on them. Dick groaned. He hated the Ink Blot test. It was so subjective. He decided to say a food item that he enjoyed for every card that was raised, no matter what it actually looked like.

The psychiatrist raised a card that looked a bit like a rose. "Hamburger," Dick said.

Another card, this one kind of looked like a dragon. "Pizza." He crossed his arms.

Next card, "French Fries."

"Escargot."

"Steak."

"Spaghetti."

"Chicken."

"Chocolate Chip Cookies."

The psychiatrist stopped lifting the cards and scowled at the kid in front of him.

"You should try this again when I'm not hungry." Dick smirked at the man in front of him. The psychiatrist continued to stare at Dick for a moment. He sighed and pressed a button on the side of the desk. Dick's smile faltered slightly. Buttons could do anything. The man made some notes on his clipboard until a bulky nurse who Dick had not seen before entered.

"We don't tolerate disobedience or jokesters. Frederick here is in charge of discipline." The color drained from Dick's face. The psychiatrist plucked Dick's goggles from his head, causing Dick to look at him in confusion. Was he trying to keep them from getting dirty or something? "Now, Frederick, why don't you demonstrate for 169 what happens when he acts out?" Frederick reached forward and grasped Dick's arm tight enough that Dick felt his bones move slightly under the pressure. He jabbed a Taser at Dick's forearm, right under the tattoo, with the energy level high enough that Dick saw sparks flying before his vision began to tunnel slightly. The shock didn't let up until Dick let loose a small scream.

"That'll do, Frederick," the psychiatrist said. Dick ripped his arm away and wrapped his free hand around the burn. Frederick left. Once Dick's vision cleared, he looked up at the psycho. The psychiatrist handed him back his goggles, which Dick took in his unharmed hand, and then curled his fingers around while returning the hand to his burn.

"169, you will cooperate; you will follow all orders and answer questions honestly and fully, or there will be consequences. Understood?" Dick nodded. This time, when the psychiatrist again lifted the cards, he answered softly with answers other than food, unless something really looked like food. There were a few more tests after that, mostly related to psychology.

Two hours after the psychiatrist finished, a nurse came and escorted Dick back to his room. It was way after dinnertime. When he entered, Alex was already fast asleep. He climbed onto his bed and curled into a ball, cradling his arm. He never did get to eat dinner that night.


	14. File: 169

**File:** 169

 **Name:** Richard John Grayson

 **Age:** 13

 **Birthdate:** March 23, 1999

 **Gender:** Male

 **Hair Color:** Black

 **Eye Color:** Blue

 **Skin Color:** Pale

 **Height:** 4'10"

 **Weight:** 38 kilograms (83.8 lbs)

 **Blood Type:** AB-

 **Status:** Special Order

 **Relationships:** John Grayson (father, deceased)

Mary Grayson (mother, deceased)

Richard Grayson (uncle, deceased)

Karla Grayson (aunt, deceased)

John Grayson (cousin, deceased)

Bruce Wayne (legal guardian)

Jason Todd (adoptive brother)

Damian (adoptive brother?)

 **Math Score:** 740 / 750

 **Science Score:** 530 / 750

 **English Literature:** 500 / 750

 **History:** 520 / 750

 **Personality Type:** ENFJ

 **Languages Deemed Proficient In:** English, French, Spanish, Arabic, Italian

 **Personal Item** : Pair of red goggles

 **Project:** P. U. M.

**Notes:**

**December 7, 2012:**

Subject arrived at the facility at 3:00 in the morning European Time, after arriving at a port in Southern France at 9 in the morning the previous morning. Drivers reported that he was on an oxygen tank from 10:07 in the morning to arrival at the facility; although occasionally the mask was removed to force feed him Gatorade. Subject is malnourished and dehydrated. Skin is pale and a minor fever is present. Placed in comatose state to stabilize health. He has been hooked up to an IV in the special processing section for the time being, and will be given fever reducers and nutrients on a consistent schedule. Oxygen mask remains in place. End Note.

**December 12, 2012:**

Subject is responding well to treatment. He has gained one and a half kilograms since arrival. Fever has reduced. Currently, subject is being weaned off of comatose drugs. Should wake up within 48 hours. End Note.

 **December 21, 2012** : Subject has gained four kilograms since arrival and is starting to regain healthy hue. Unfortunately, subject's body has rejected most attempts at liquid food, especially after the death of another subject in the room. He is back on nutrients. Nurses have begun physical conditioning to recover atrophied muscles. Subject has not spoken since arrival, and seems only vaguely aware of his surroundings. End Note.

 **December 31, 2012:** Subject is finally able to keep down most liquids and can speak at a whisper, although he does not often do so with the nurses. Has been transitioned to soups, but continues to receive additional nutrients and medicines through the IV. Subject has gained six and a half kilograms since arrival. Doctor Theo deemed that he has regained enough weight to be formally marked. End Note.

 **January 2, 2013:** Viktor marked subject this afternoon. IV was ripped out in the process. After getting marked, nurse neglected to reattach IV. Subject got up and walked over to speak with subject 214, speaking 214's language and undoing 214's restraints. Nurse returned and removed 169 to his bed. Nurse reattached the IV and then restrained 169, in case he tried to rise again. End Note.

 **January 4, 2013:** Subject moved to SO4 at three in the afternoon. End Note.

 **January 5, 2013:** Subject was given a routine check-up today complete with educational placement exams. Determined to be fully proficient in at least five languages. Nurse suspects a pattern in all written exams except Math, Psychological, and Language Exam, to be further examined. Will be placed in classroom six for studies, and used as translator. Suggestion: participation in Project: P. U. M. Fits most successful description and physical attributes.

Subject had a rough reaction to psychiatrist, possibly due to hunger. Received punishment and became more amiable. Dinner was withheld as well. Subject will begin intensive conditioning for Project P. U. M. on January 10, 2013. End Note.

 **January 6, 2013:** Subject began educational track in classroom six today. Subject seems to get along with other students, but tends to ignore the teacher except to make unusual faces when the teacher's back is turned. Subject also refused to do the work. On the third attempt at mocking the teacher and continued refusal to do schoolwork, subject was briefly removed from the room and disciplined. Returned unhappy but more malleable. No more unusual faces were made, and student began doing the work. Suggestion: delay before beginning intensive conditioning to January 13, 2013. End Note.

 **January 10, 2013:** Subject has mostly integrated into the artificial social environment. Spends most time with roommate subject 187, but also often speaks with younger subjects. Subject regularly speaks to other subjects in that subject's native language. Possibility that subject speaks more than the languages examined. Subject seems amiable to translating for nurses and teachers, especially when threatened with punishment. Suggestion: substitute positive reinforcement for translating instead of negative reinforcement for not translating. End Note.

 **January 13, 2013:** Subject begins intensive conditioning for Project P. U. M. today. Subject will be given protein and nutrient rich food with no desserts or sugar, except for one piece of fruit per meal. Subject will be monitored closely during all meals, and punished for any dietary mishaps. Subject will also get a minimum of 9 hours of sleep per night, achieved by having partial lights out three hours earlier and full lights out an hour earlier, with penalties for not being in bed on time. Subject will also enter intensive class two. Chemical injections will begin in one week. Subject should be fully conditioned in four weeks. End Note.


	15. Bunnies of Disappointment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally an April Fool's Day Chapter that was later incorporated into the story, so it doesn't entirely fit the tone.

Interlude: Bunnies of Disappointment.

"Team. Report to the mission room."

Within a couple of minutes, the team was assembled in the mission room. Jason fiddled with his belt, but stopped when he felt his father's eyes upon him. Kid Flash teetered back and forth, while Artemis and Red Arrow stood with their arms crossed. The rest of the team stood, or floated in Miss Martian's case, impassive.

"We believe we have found a lead on Richard Grayson's location. Le Mars, France."

"The Ice Cream Capital?" Wally asked, creasing his eyebrow. "But I was there last week and nothing weird was going down."

"You might have missed it. At first glance, it seems to be an unlikely place to hide him, but the recent evidence in Savannah suggests that he may no longer be on this continent, and until all the ships he may have possibly left on are accounted for, be open to any and all possibilities. The area in which he is likely being kept is mostly hidden and heavily guarded. Your mission is to infiltrate, rescue Richard, and get out. If you can, gather evidence to incriminate those in charge, but the priority is Richard. Evidence from their movements and the initial capture show that the enemy is highly organized and powerful. Do not get caught."

~Time Skip. La la la la la~

"M'gann, link us up." There was the feeling of a magical string, connecting them all. "Is everyone online?" A chorus of yeses from everyone except Robin. "Robin?" More silence. "Miss Martian did you hook up Robin Junior?"

"Oh. Hello Megan!" She connected Jason. "Sorry, RJ!"

"Wait, how long has the link been active?"

"Not long. We will split into three groups of three to search the buildings. Artemis, Rocket, and Zatanna; Kid Flash, Superboy, and Miss Martian; Red Arrow, Robin, and I will be the teams. According to the blueprints, they are most likely keeping Richard in one of these three warehouses, the center of which holds the control center and shipping orders. Kid Flash, Superboy, and Miss Martian, take the warehouse on the right. Rocket, Artemis, and Zatanna, the one on the left. We will take the center warehouse and information gather. Go."

They moved carefully through the scene, somehow avoiding all the guards. They all entered the warehouses at the same time and started investigating the wares. Jason found the central terminal and started downloading and searching through the shipping logs and other data. After half an hour, all groups had reached the conclusion of their search.

"There's nothing here!" Artemis noted. "Only fish."

"We've got bunnies." Superboy said.

"No, Superboy, you can't free the bunnies." Miss Martian told her companion. "They're on their ways to good homes."

"Sure, they are." Kid Flash commented.

"Leave the bunnies alone, Superboy. Search harder. Scan for signs of life. Besides that of the bunnies and fish."

"Uh, Aqualad? Is this warehouse entirely filled with tulips? Because that's all this data says." Jason questioned.

"What is wrong with these people? Is this an April Fool's Day Prank or something? There's nothing here, but evidence that people buy bunnies, fish, and flowers." Roy's comment was met with silence.

"Oh."

"It's January." Superboy deadpanned.

"Well, we can still try to find any evidence. Maybe there is a connection, however loose." The exhaustion and disappointment was clear in Roy's voice. Between looking for Original Roy and Dick, he'd had no time or inclination to take care of himself and relax, beyond basic needs that were enforced by Dinah and Ollie.

"Or they could be leading us on a wild goose chase and be nowhere near here!" Artemis exclaimed.

"We must consider that the warehouse is covering up evidence. Richard and the other kidnapped kids may still be nearby. Kid Flash, run around the outskirts of the town and see if anyone is trying to leave the city. Any car running this late is fair game, but focus on trucks and buses. Robin, Junior, pull up security feed for the past few days. Get license plates, personnel, suspicious packages, anything relevant. When you're finished, get footage from the town. Rocket, protect Robin, Junior while he works.

"The rest of us will continue the search in the town. Miss Martian, search for suspicious activity from the air, camo mode. Superboy and Zatanna search in a spiral pattern spanning out from here. Artemis and Red Arrow, go to the outskirts of town and work your way in. I will continue to search the warehouses and question any personnel I come across. Check in by coms every hour on the hour. Meet back at the Bioship at sunrise. Go."


	16. Adjusting to a New Normal

Chapter 13: Adjusting to a New Normal

They weren’t scared. It wasn’t working. In fact, none of his glares had worked as long as he’d been here.

He missed Dick. The older boy had left ages ago while Damian was delirious, left him alone with the bluemen. Logically, he knew that Dick hadn’t exactly left willingly. Logically, Dick had no more freedom than he did. Logically, Dick should have gotten sick, too. Then, he would still be here, smiling at Damian, instead of the bluemen, who were acting kind of suspicious.

Of course, there was also the possibility Dick did not exist and was actually a hallucination induced by the bluemen to trick Damian into a false sense of security so that he did not break free and try to contact help. That was a possibility, too.

When Damian woke up that morning, there were four new children in the room—all extremely skinny and hooked up to beeping machines. Damian had been shifted to another bed in the center of the room in his sleep, somehow without waking. He thought it might have been that girl’s bed. She left yesterday.

The bluemen were back now, walking among the new children and writing things down on clipboards. Damian shied away from them, and rubbed his forearm where the tall man had poked him repeatedly with a needle a couple days ago until the bruises formed a black number. After finishing with the new children, two of the bluemen turned towards Damian. He scooted backwards a little bit as they came forwards.

THUMP. “Yip.”

Well, this was highly embarrassing. Damian thrashed against his bedsheets, but only succeeded in getting more tangled. He froze when he heard a light chuckle from one of the bluemen above him. He looked up from his new position on the ground and attempted to school his expression into a blank face. It didn’t work, just like his glares. The blueman reached down, grabbed Damian and his evil blankets, and placed the bundle on the bed, before starting to examine him.

“Temperature normal, reflexes okay, no runny nose or cough, healthy weight. He fits the requirements for transport, Doctor.”

Damian looked around frantically, but saw no sign of the white coat. He furrowed his eyebrow. The blueman must be talking to himself.

“Yes, sir. Will do.” The blueman held Damian still and carefully untangled the blankets as he listened to the invisible doctor. He nodded to one of his fellow bluemen who brought forth a thick strip of fabric and wound it around Damian’s head, covering his eyes. Damian instantly started struggling as his sight was interrupted.

“Hold still,” the second blueman said, placing a hand on part of his head in an effort to keep it still so he could tie the blindfold tightly.

 _“Let me go. Go away,”_ Damian cried in Arabic, panicking at the lack of light.

“Calm him down.” There was a prick on his right arm, and a forced feeling of calm entered Damian’s body. Words floated down through a hazy cloud.

“—flipped when we put the blindfold on, injected a mild sedative to calm him down… Understood, sir. Boss says to take him to his new room, but to tie him down until his roommates return from classes.”

Through the fog and numbness, Damian was faintly aware of being lifted and carried away. It felt nice, but wrong, like he was not supposed to be drifting and the person carrying him was wrong, bad. He needed to wake up. Fight, yet sleep seemed nice, too. Maybe he’d just take a little nap.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Great. Another day in this Hellhole. Wake up. Don’t bother to change clothes because they all look the same. Eat breakfast with Charlie, his roommate. Get taken to class where he learned boring stuff from manipulative bastards. Lunch with a bunch of scared, whiny kids ranging in age. Back to class. Then back to his room for dinner and the night with annoying, whimpers-and-snores-in-his-sleep Charlie. Maybe with some experimentation on his missing arm in the meantime.

Yeah. General, stupid, average day waiting for stupid Ollie to get his stupid act together and come find him. Honestly, it wasn’t like he hadn’t been doing his part in the partnership. He’d dropped clues when he could, after all. Sure, he’d been on ice for a while, but it couldn’t have been too long. Maybe a couple months, max. Still way too long for Ollie to be delayed especially since he’d been here for almost six months, more or less. This place wasn’t that hard to find. Right?

The nurse pushed him into a seat near the front. Used to the wonderful process of having his ankle cuffed to the desk-chair by the overly paranoid nurses, Roy pushed his ankle back into the loop. It was easier to submit to the cuff than to be punished and forced into it anyways. He wasn’t going anywhere until Ollie got there anyways. He’d never get all these kids out on his own without some help. They really needed Batman or maybe someone younger who could blend in, like Batman’s protégé or something. What was the kid’s name again? Magpie? Raven? They needed a genius strategist who could concoct a plan to get everyone out without anyone getting killed or recaptured. He wasn’t kidding himself. Ollie had some _problems_ with planning instead of running in blind.

Some of the other kids filed in and settled down at their desks, also pushing their ankle into position for the rest of the class. He sometimes wondered why those kids weren’t as secured, not being escorted everywhere by nurses, and traveling in droves. It would work to their advantage in any escape plan. There were obviously more kids than nurses. A couple other so-called “Special Interest” kids were delivered to the room.

A blue clad nurse pushed one kid down into the desk next to him. First row center. The kid must be so pleased. Oh great, the kid was looking at him and… wait a second. Did he know this kid from somewhere? It kind of looked like someone he’d seen at a party or something. Ok. Kid was staring at him. Ask. Easy peasy. Just ask and get an answer, Roy.

“What are you looking at?” Oops.

The kid winced at his tone, quickly averting his eyes, before slowly looking back to study him again. Roy sighed.

“Look, do I know you from somewhere or something? Why are you looking at me weird?”

He hesitated. “Roy? Roy Harper?” Ok, so the kid did know him, but that didn’t mean he knew the kid. Maybe he was in a magazine or on a milk carton, a ‘Have you seen this kid?’ type thing, if Ollie went for that kind of stuff.

“Yeah. That’s me. Do I know you?”

“Sort of. Maybe. I’m not sure.” The kid paused. Roy waited patiently. “I’m Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne’s ward. I think I met you at one of Bruce’s or Oliver’s parties, maybe?” Okay. So he was a socialite. Roy studied the kid, scrawny, pale, with enormous blue eyes and a noticeable twitch like he was used to moving a lot more than he was currently. With a rich dad like Bruce Wayne, the kid was definitely Special Interest. Probably wouldn’t last too long here.

“Right.” Maybe he knew if Ollie was searching for Roy? “Is Ollie still searching for me? He’s looking, right?”

There was that hesitation again. “Yeah. Oliver’s searching. They’re all searching.”

“They?” Who else would be searching for him? “They who?”

“Roy, how much do you remember? How long have you been here?”

“Six months, give or take? Maybe a couple months before that in transport, but not much longer.” The kid winced.

“Roy,” Grayson paused, hesitating again, and then continued with his thought. “You’ve been missing for three years.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bruce?”

“Yes, Jason?” Bruce looked up from his coffee. Jason paused, shifting from foot to foot. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath, and then held out a familiar envelope. “I found this on your desk, buried under some papers. I know I wasn’t supposed to be in there. Please don’t be mad. It’s postmarked from the day of Dick’s kidnapping and unopened, but marked priority mail, so I thought there might be a clue that we might have, might have missed in the initial sweep.” He took another deep breath, meeting his father’s gaze. “Bruce, it’s from the court. Why do you have a letter from court that you haven’t opened?”

Bruce got up and knelt to his son’s level. “I haven’t opened it because I’m afraid to see the answer.”

“The answer? Answer to what?” Bruce glanced at the envelope, realizing that the small hope he’d been harboring did not only apply to his missing son, but the present one as well.

“How about we open it in the living room, Master Bruce?” Alfred spoke up, obviously recognizing the envelope for what it was. Bruce gave a curt nod, took the envelope from Jason, and moved to the living room. Once he was seated with Jason, who was watching him curious yet nervous, pulled into his lap, he opened the envelope with shaking hands.

Three pieces of paper slipped out. Bruce skimmed them quickly. He was simultaneously overjoyed and incredibly saddened by the results, a small rare smile coming to his lips. There was a small gasp as Jason read the pages, touching them to be sure they were real. He looked up at his father as a huge grin spread.

“Bruce. These are adoption papers. APPROVED adoption papers. You adopted us?”

“Yes. Yes, I did. Son.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“But why would they suddenly change my classroom? It doesn’t make sense. And then that one nurse was watching us through all of lunch, after the lunch lady wouldn’t give me the dessert, which is the one actually decent thing they give us for lunch. Couldn’t even get some of yours.”

“It wasn’t that good anyways. You weren’t missing out.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be upset that they wouldn’t let me have it.”

“Shut up, you two.” The two boys looked up at the two nurses guarding them as they returned to their room. Dick thought that if push came to shove, he could take the two out, but doing that now would work more against him than towards him. They drew to a stop, as one of the nurses unlocked the door and the boys were shoved none too kindly inside.

“I heard a rumor that a bunch of new kids came in yesterday. That’s probably why you were moved. Dick?” Dick had stopped near the entrance of the room. “Dick? What is it?”

“Who.”

“Huh?”

“Who is it, not what is it. It’s Damian.”

“Oh, the kid you mentioned?” Alex took in a small lump resting on the third bed. “He’s so tiny.”

“Why’s he tied down?”

“Beats me, mate. I wasn’t tied down when they brought me here, and if you were tied down, you got untied pretty quickly.”

“I’m going to untie him.” Dick said, approaching the bed.

“You’ll get in trouble.”

“Don’t care.” Dick leaned forward and undid the belts. After a second, Damian curled into a ball. Dick covered him with the blanket and stepped back, watching the kid. Alex settled into a desk chair, fiddling with some art supplies he’d pilfered from his class. After a second, Dick sat in the second one. He hesitated to begin a new conversation, glancing at the little kid in their room.

“In my new class…” He paused. Alex looked up, and motioned for him to go on. “In my new class, there’s a kid I know, or used to know really. He disappeared three years ago, but he thinks he disappeared only maybe eight months ago.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “He… he still looks about the age he disappeared at, too. Alex, what are they planning to do to us?”

“I don’t know, but maybe he’s the exception? I mean, he’s still alive, so that has to count for something.” There was silence for a few minutes. Dick watched Damian to see if he showed any sign of waking.

“We need to get out of here.”

“Not arguing there, but how?”

Dick opened his mouth to reply, but realized he didn’t have an answer.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Mountain was silent as Jason wandered through the halls, pretending to be studying his surroundings as he walked, in case anyone wondered what he was doing. He had not had much time to observe the cave yet as Batman’s protective streak persevered. Honestly, he was capable of taking care of himself, going out as Robin proved that. Of course, as the original Robin and first sidekick, Dick was even more capable and he was kidnapped, but he was in civvies at the time! No way had Golden Boy put full effort into escaping. He’d totally be here right now.

“Hello, Junior.” Jason barely managed to hide his jump. He spun around to find Golden Boy’s girlfriend or crush, whatever she was, in the secluded part of the Mountain he’d sauntered into.

“Hi Zatanna.” Jason leaned away from the demonic look on Zatanna’s face with a scowl. “What do you want?”

“ _Nurt Nibor S’roinuj Seohs Otni Eternoc._ ”

“Hey! What?” In a flash, pun intended, Zatanna had grabbed Jason’s wrists and pinned them to the wall as high above his head as she could reach. “What are you doing?” He asked as he struggled to free himself from her surprisingly strong grip. He felt her hands tighten. “Let me go!”

“Not until I get answers! Where’s Robin?”

“Umm. Here?”

“Not you. Your brother. Where’s the real Robin?” Jason studied the fierce heroine before him and pushed down a slight stab of petrifying fear. She reminded him a bit of the crazy people he avoided on the streets. “Tell me!” She screamed.

“HELP! SOMEONE HELP! SHE’S CRAZY!”

“Oh, stop screaming. They’re all in town. It’s just you and me here. Now, where is he?”

“Why?” The word popped out before he could stop it. “Why do you want to know so bad? No one else has cornered me about it.”

“I’m sure Wally already knows; maybe Artemis, too. _Rewsna Lla Snoitseuq Yltsenoh_. Where’s the first Robin?”

“Somewhere in the Eastern Hemisphere. Probably Europe.” Jason stopped and adopted a look of horror. “What did you do to me?”

“Is he really on a mission?”

“No.” He moaned, squirming in her grip. She paused for a second. She had guessed the mission had been a lie, but the confirmation still wasn’t comforting.

“Then, what really happened to him?”

“He was kidnapped.” Jason’s look of horror was turning into one of fear.

“What?”

“Kidnapped. Taken against his will.”

“Why aren’t we looking for him?” Tears were pricking at the corners of Jason’s eyes, but Zatanna couldn’t see that behind his sunglasses. “Answer me!” He flinched.

“Because you’re pinning me here, the team is in town, and we have no leads.”

“Not at this instant. Why hasn’t Batman sent us after him and his kidnappers? Doesn’t he care?”

“He has, and of course he cares.”

“What?! What do you mean ‘he has’?”

Jason bit the corner of his lip trying to resist the spell or at least stop the whimper rising in the back of his throat. “He, he has sent us after him. He-” Nope. Not talking; he bit his cheek.

“When?” She narrowed her eyes. Resistance was futile. “When did he send us after him?”

Jason’s mind flew to the discovery that Dick had been in Savannah and the disastrous mission to France that had unfortunately yielded only the clue that the men who took him tied up loose ends, but had left the town long before Dick had been kidnapped with no sign of where they’d gone, only being in town to kidnap children. They had probably accidentally tipped the kidnappers off that they were onto them. There were also all the resurfaced ships they had visited looking for evidence Golden Boy had been aboard.

“About two months ago, and several times since.”

“Two months ago?” He ground out an affirmative, ignoring the small tear that slid down his cheek. “But we were busy working on that rich kid’s case two months ago. When…”

“Zatanna,” she jumped as Batman came up behind her.

“Batman!” Jason cried in relief.

“Release my son, Zatanna.” She hesitated for a second, and then released Jason’s wrists. “His feet, too.”

“ _Trever Nibor S’roinuj Seohs Ot Lamron._ ” Jason fell as the feeling returned to his feet, but Batman caught him.

“What is going on here?” Batman frowned deeply.

“She cast some spell on me so that I have to answer all her questions, and I couldn’t stop myself from answering and she was asking about Robin, and it’s her fault! I wouldn’t have said anything if she hadn’t made me.”

“Zatanna, is that true?” Zatanna looked at the ground, before raising her eyes to glare at him.

“Yes, but you’ve been lying to us! Robin’s not on a mission! He never was! He was kidnapped and you’ve been too busy distracting us with some stupid rich kid’s case. How could you abandon your own son? You replaced him! You’re a monster! We deserved to know the truth. We’re his team!”

“Finished?”

“Not even close and I’m sure the rest of the team will feel the same!” Batman met her gaze.

“Robin. Go get changed for patrol.” Jason looked between the two and then scrambled off to change. The staring contest continued for a couple minutes, before Batman abruptly turned and grabbed a mop, pushing it into the girl’s hands. “Zatanna, what you did was wrong. To start, clean the entire mountain, no help and no powers. Think before you come to a conclusion. We will speak about this later, with the entire team.”

Before Zatanna could argue, Robin, Jr ran back out fully dressed in his costume, gave Zatanna a wide berth and skidded to a stop next to Batman. Batman turned and led his partner away towards the Zeta Tubes, feeling the girl’s glare digging into his back as they parted.


	17. F is for Fear of Many Forms

Chapter 14: F is for Fear of Many Forms

Dick stared at the redhead in the seat next to him. He looked exactly like a younger Roy. Well, a younger Roy missing an arm. He even had the same "I hate life" expression Roy liked to put on when frustrated with Oliver. Younger Roy glanced over before facing him.

"Are you planning on staring at me every day when you come in or is this just a temporary thing?"

Dick sighed and averted his eyes. "I'm sorry, Roy. It's just weird seeing you here."

"Oh, yeah. Why? Because I've been missing for almost four times the amount of time I thought I was?"

"Well that and…" Dick hesitated.

"Quit hesitating. Just give it to me straight. Not much else you can say will really shock me." Dick snorted. There were a lot of things he could tell Roy that would shock him. That brought him to his current dilemma. Should he tell Roy he was cloned and it took Ollie three years to figure it out or come up with another excuse for his hesitation? Dick saw Roy—well, the clone Roy at least—as a big brother and was close to him. He was much nearer in perceived age to this other Roy and definitely did not want to be the bearer of bad news, but Roy deserved to know that the search had only recently resumed. Well, there were no mics nearby that would pick them up if they spoke quietly. With that in mind, Dick steeled himself for the furious reaction that was sure to come.

"Are you sure? You have to keep your reaction quiet, okay?"

"Of course, now tell me."

"Okay. Let me know if you have questions." Roy nodded in agreement. Dick dropped his voice to a low whisper. "Roy, from what we've figured out, you were originally taken by Cadmus."

"Who's we?" Dick hesitated before reluctantly answering.

"The Justice League."

"The Justice League is looking for me? Cool. Continue."

"You were originally taken by Cadmus, a scientific branch of a secret organization known as the Light. We think they took you on one of your first patrols… Is that right?"

"Yeah. I'd only been out a few times."

"Well, anyways…" Fast was the best way to tell him, like speedster fast, yeah. "They cloned you and let Oliver find the clone and we didn't know until about six months ago and we're sorry."

A beat of silence as Roy processed. "WHAT!?"

"Shhh…"

"Don't shush me! You can't just drop a bomb like that on me and expect me to be-"

"Is there a problem?" A nurse came up beside the two boys and cut Roy off, glaring at them. "Now is the time to be silent." Roy glared back at the nurse and then turned back to the front, crossing his arms and slouching in his chair. Dick looked between the two frantically. The nurse nodded, satisfied, and walked away.

"You can't tell anyone. They'll want to know how you found out and I'm not supposed to know." He whispered to Roy.

"What do you mean you're not supposed to know? You said you were searching for me." Roy hissed back.

"I was."

"Exactly, so how were you not supposed to know?"

"Dick Grayson isn't supposed to know Roy Harper is a clone," Dick mumbled, glancing up to make sure there were no more nurses nearby as they whisper-argued. "My dad is a sponsor of the League, along with Ollie and a couple others. I grew up knowing many of them. I… My dad told me that the other Roy was a clone and we started searching."

"Oh… You're from Gotham, right?"

"Yeah."

"Do you know Magpie?"

"Who?"

"Erm. Magpie. Batman's partner. I think that's his name."

Dick wasn't sure whether to laugh or feel insulted. "You mean Robin?"

"Yeah! That guy!" A nurse gave them a dirty look, prompting both boys to fall silent from a moment.

"Magpie is a cooler name than Robin. Robin is girly."

"What? And Magpie's not?"

"Nah. Magpie is cool. It has pie in the name."

"What?" A beat of silence. "Oh, I see. You're trying to cover up the fact you didn't know what his name actually is."

"So, do you know him?" Yep. Nice try though, Roy.

"Yeah. You could say I know him. I know a bunch of the league."

"Cool. He seems fairly badass."

"I don't know. He doesn't get out much. Batman's fairly protective."

"Nah. I'm sure he gets out enough. If we had Robin, we probably wouldn't be here for much longer. Anyone trained by Batman has to be amazing."

Dick looked down at his hands. He had no idea how to get out of here.

After watching Dick in silence for a while, Roy spoke up. "Anyways, they're not just searching for me then, are they?"

"No, but they wouldn't have been. This is obviously a large operation. They're looking for everyone," Dick glanced up again to check where the nurses were. They were delivering some kids to the back. One kid was being stubborn about the ankle cuff, successfully keeping the attention off the boys in front. "The Justice League is going to find us, and when they do, they're going to bury these jerks. Batman, especially. He hates when kids are hurt. It's like his specialty." Roy nodded, glancing at the supposed son of one of the league's main sponsors, and then smirked.

"Jerks? Really? Does your dad have a thing against cursing?"

"Not really, but Alfred did. I'll tell you more later, but for right now, keep this to yourself. I don't want to find out how they would use me if they found out."

Before Roy could say anything more than "Okay," the teacher entered the room.

"Good morning class. Today, we will be talking about the origin of the Easter Bunny and the relevance it had at the time of its conception." The Easter Bunny? Really? What kind of crap were these people planning on stuffing into their heads, anyways? Dick dropped his head onto his hand and prepared for several hours of boredom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In Dick's opinion, lunch was the best part of the day. The nurses shoved all the kids into a large room, served them food based on the number on their arm, and then left them to their own devices for 45 minutes. Although they were all still being watched closely by a practical army of armed nurses, there to prevent any escape attempts, and the room was underground, the kids were free to socialize and make friends, sitting with whomever they wanted.

Dick plunked down next to Alex. Roy, who had followed him like a duckling from the classroom, sat down across from them, desperate to learn more about the search efforts and how no one in the league had realized he had been cloned.

"Alex, Roy. Roy, Alex. Alex, this is the friend I told you about. Roy, this is my roommate Alex."

"Hello." The two boys said in sync, eyeing each other curiously.

"Damian! Over here!" Dick called, spotting the small boy dawdling on the other side of the room. Damian looked up at his name, found them, and then darted through the crowd to claim the space next to Dick. Dick took Damian's tray and placed it on the table as Damian clambered onto the bench.

"Who's this?"

"This is Damian. He's our roommate. We have a triple."

"They're taking babies now?"

"I'm not a baby!" Damian cried, straining to reach his food. "I'm four!"

"I know." Dick assured him, subtly pushing Damian's tray a little closer, even as Alex exclaimed, "You can speak English?"

"Of course I can speak English. Anyone who cannot speak English is either disabled or an imbecile."

"That's not necessarily true." Dick said. "English is a hard language for people to learn if it's not their first language, especially if they speak a language with a different alphabet or different roots. It's not that hard when they're young, like you are, but not everyone has the chance to learn a second language when they're young." Damian snorted in response, but appeared a bit contrite.

"Why didn't you speak English yesterday when you got back from the tests? Or the day before that? You only spoke gibberish."

"Not gibberish! Arabic! And Arabic is a better language than English!" Damian stabbed at the meatballs on his plate. He peeked at Dick and asked, in a low voice. "What does gibberish mean?"

"It means nonsense or a bunch of random sounds with no clear meaning." He answered.

"So, did you all come together?" Roy asked. Dick and Alex exchanged glances.

"Together, no, but I think we got here at the same time. I'm from Gotham, Alex is from Italy, and Damian's from… I'm actually not sure where. Damian, where are you from?" Damian shrugged. "Do you know where you were before the nurses got you?"

"You mean _the bluemen_? I was in Baghdad."

"The bluemen? I love it. We need to spread that around." Dick said, with a smile. "So, yeah. We weren't all kidnapped together, but we might have been pushed together sometime on the journey. I don't know. It kind of got fuzzy sometime during the sea voyage."

Roy stopped eating and looked at his new friend. "Sea voyage?!"

"Well, I think it was a sea voyage. The box was rocking enough and I think the rough voice said something about a boat. My memory's kind of foggy…" Dick said softly. "I slept most of the time. Did you guys have something similar?"

"I didn't have that." Alex commented.

"We took a long car with lots of seats most of the way." Damian stated, not knowing the English word for bus.

"I think I took a plane, and some cars."

"Cars, definitely," Alex confirmed. "Or a van."

"Guess I'm special even for the specials." Dick said bitterly.

At that moment, a shouting match broke out on the other side of the room, causing the rest to go silent. Two boys, about 16 years old, were yelling every insult they knew at each other including many colorful curse words that prompted Dick to put his hands over Damian's ears, holding them firm as the younger boy tried to throw him off. Before they even figured out what was happening, the boys leapt on each other and started throwing punches. The bluemen—what a good name—swarmed forward and pulled the two boys apart, but they kept shouting, seemingly oblivious to anything other than what was in front of them.

Frederick came into the room with two collars. He took something from each of the boys and clamped the collars around their necks. They were instantly silenced, although their mouths were still moving. He activated an electrical charge and held it until the boys passed out.

"Detention Room 3." He directed the nurses. "What are you all looking at?" He asked the room at large, giving a menacing glare at the silent children as he left the room. Whispers instantly broke out.

"Alright. Back to your classes!" A nurse called.

"But lunch isn't over!" A young girl protested. The blueman grabbed something from her as well, before slapping her across the face and handing it back. No one else protested and the bluemen started to take groups of students out.

"See you after class." Dick muttered to Alex and Damian, giving Damian a brief pat on the head as his and Roy's class was led out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the day passed smoothly, if not quietly. Some of the older kids recovered quickly and started to whisper to each other, but even the whispers disappeared when it was time to go back to the rooms. The special interest kids were led out first, as the rest of the children went straight to dinner following classes. Two nurses came by with Alex to retrieve Dick, but Damian was nowhere in sight.

The silence was unnerving. The only sound was the shuffling of feet as the tension in the air rose. Dick opened his mouth to break it, to ask where Damian was, but clamped it shut when Alex caught his eye and shook his head frantically. The heavy hand of one of the bluemen resting on his thin shoulder served as an additional deterrent.

Dick looked around, watching as other kids were nudged into triple locked rooms. He could have sworn there were people talking yesterday and the day before that, so why was it silent today? Was this entirely due to the fight in the lunch room? Or was it something else?

Before long, they reached his and Alex's room and came to a stop. A few other kids and their guards continued past them as one of the nurses unlocked the door. Dick's nurse put a hand on his other shoulder.

Just as he was about to push Dick inside and lock the door, a younger nurse came running up. "Hey!" he shouted, breaking the oppressive silence. He stopped next to them and slouched over to catch his breath. "Hey, Ronnie wants to see 169 downstairs in room 21B. She sent me to get him and an escort." Dick's nurse and Alex's nurse looked at each other, and then Dick's nurse reached down and checked Dick's left arm for the black tattoo. He turned to the younger nurse and nodded. The two boys made eye contact and then the bluemen shoved Alex in and closed the door in his face. Dick's nurse turned and started to steer Dick back down the hallway.

After they turned the corner, the younger nurse stopped and pulled out a blindfold. Dick sighed as they wound it around his head. They were seriously overly paranoid, and he knew paranoid. Dick was led through several more turns, into the elevator, out of the elevator, and through more turns before finally coming to a stop inside a small room. Dick reached to take the blindfold off, but the nurses guided his hands back down, and sat him down on a bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ronnie entered the room at her normal stride. Two nurses were standing in the corner of the room with the new test subject for the project sitting on the bed. It was small—likely the smallest so far—and skinny with the almost staple black hair. Another week, another child. Maybe this one would survive longer than the last.

"169?" She barked.

"Yep. According to his stamp, anyhow." One of the nurses said.

"You can take the blindfold off. It might as well see what we're doing. It's not like it can do anything about it." The kid made a face behind his blindfold at being called 'it'. Well, she wasn't about to apologize. It helped her separate him—it!—from other children she knew. She hoped this one had actually done something to deserve this, but knew deep down, in the back of her mind, in the conscience she tried to keep locked away, that no one deserved this.

Ronnie turned away as the blindfold was removed, busying herself with the last of the preparations for the first steps of the process. According to the kid's file, he had been special interest, probably picked either for his ancestry, as a ransom, or both. The chemicals were ready in their syringes, a combination of series three and five, separated so that any chemical reactions would be affected only by the fluids already in the body. The process was cruel and dangerous to the kid, but the higher ups believed this combination would work. Still, she had done a small test of the chemicals with a small sample of blood. It looked safe… ish. Ronnie grabbed a syringe to take blood for a control group, and turned around to face the kid.

Blue eyes. That was the first thing that registered when she faced it again. Big, innocent, bright blue eyes clouded by wariness and a bit of fear and accented by a pale face which obviously hadn't seen much sun lately. She almost ordered them to put the blindfold back on, but held back. She couldn't show any weakness.

"Alright. Hold it still. I need a blood sample."

One of the nurses had a firm grip on its left shoulder, so it didn't pull away when she tied a tourniquet and inserted the needle in the crook of its elbow. She took a full tube of blood, removed the needle and tourniquet, and put a cotton ball and a band aid over the puncture wound so the blood wouldn't escape. Then, she screwed a top on the tube, marked the tube, placed the tube in a cooler, and set a countdown timer for fifteen minutes, the amount of time for the blood to clot and close the small needle wound. She could feel its gaze as the blue eyes followed her every move.

When the timer hit one minute, Ronnie nodded to the two nurses, who grabbed hold of the kid and forced it to stand up and be still, and then grabbed the needles with the chemicals. Careful not to look at its face, she injected one in each arm, feeling the kid's fear in its muscles as she depressed both needles. Once the injections were finished, the nurses let go of it, and started patting down the bed and preparing the straps.

"Jumping jacks. Keep going until I give you permission to stop." First words to the kid. Yay. She started a stopwatch. The kid hesitated for a second, but started the jumping jacks. Could it speak? She hadn't heard it protest once. She knew the second the chemicals reached each other because the kid stumbled and its face contorted in pain. "Keep going," she barked instantly, receiving an incredulous look from the kid.

Five minutes and the kid was wavering, trying hard to keep going, probably afraid of punishment, but running out of strength. It wouldn't be long now before the combined chemicals would be spread to all parts of the body. By seven minutes, its arms were flagging and form was dropping rapidly as the combination caused a numbing sensation. Most of the kids collapsed between eight and ten minutes, if not long before then. She saw it was trying to stop again, and gave it a good hard glare. It kept going, picking up its speed again.

At nine minutes, its legs went out. It tried to get up again, but couldn't stand. She stopped the stopwatch, and gestured to the nurses. They came over, lifted the kid up, who feebly tried to push them away, and placed it down on the bed. They arranged the kid's limbs so that it was semi-comfortable and then pinned it down with the straps. The nurses attached a few beeping machines to the kid to monitor its vital signs. It would stay overnight for observation, and rejoin the rest of the kids in the morning.


	18. Anyone Want a Scooby Snack?

Chapter 15: Anyone Want a Scooby Snack?

Three months. _Three months._ Three months, four days, 22 hours, and seven minutes had passed since that fateful fall day, and they were no closer to finding his son. At this point, the police had about given up, and were looking for Dick’s body. Frankly, the only reasons they were still looking for Dick at all was because Commissioner Gordon believed him to have been taken by a terrorist cell that operated on a large scale, and, you know, because Bruce was a billionaire and no one wants to stop searching for a billionaire’s son when there was even the slightest chance he might still be alive..

Chances were extremely low that Dick was still alive, but Bruce refused to give up hope, refused to give up on his son. His search had expanded to the entire world after Batman and the team had found evidence at a dock near Savannah, Georgia pointing to Dick having been there. After checking the security footage, Batman determined that Dick had in fact been in the warehouse and when he had arrived. However, due to the lack of security in the warehouse, Batman was unable to determine when he left. A thorough search of the warehouse and all its contents as well as the surrounding area proved that Dick had in fact left. More disturbingly, it had added to Commissioner Gordon’s theory of the terrorist cell.

Batman was in the process of searching every ship that had left the dock between the time Dick had arrived at the warehouse and when Batman and Young Justice had found it. It was tough because the port was the second largest exporter in the United States and there was over 3000 square feet of warehouses to search for evidence of his son. The sole advantage to Gordon’s theory of terrorists was that he had given it to Batman and the Justice League. They were able to search for their missing bird legitimately. Unfortunately, nothing had yielded evidence.

An alert sounded in the corner of the computer. One of the last ships that they had been looking for had just entered a port in Rhode Island, returning from the South of France.

Batman sighed, and pulled his cowl on. “Come on, Jason.” He called to his second, and only remaining, son, who was taking a cat nap in the corner of the Batcave. “Ship in Rhode Island.” Jason got up and stretched, and then put on a pair of sunglasses and headed to the batmobile.

“Do you think the Demon Princess has finished cleaning the mountain yet?” He asked.

“Jason, be nice.”

Robin’s main suit was at the cave. The thrill of wearing it had worn off given the circumstances, and now Jason dreaded it and the disappointed looks that came with it. He slipped on a mask to go with the spare suit that didn’t match the main suit exactly. As soon as Bruce deemed that Dick had been missing long enough to disconnect his disappearance with Robin’s, Jason was planning to switch to his own identity. He was already working on designing his outfit, with Alfred’s help. He was brainstorming new names, but had yet to come up with anything he liked. His only hesitation was that Dick had seemed so happy to have someone who wanted to be him when Dick got too old to be Robin.

The batmobile peeled out of the cave towards Rhode Island. Batman sent a message to Aqualad to gather the team and meet them there. After Zatanna’s attack on Robin, Jr., Batman had admitted to the team that Robin had been taken in civvies and that they were having trouble finding him. In that same meeting, from which Rocket had been conveniently absent and which took place in the therapist room free of recording devices, he had told the remainder of the original team Robin’s true identity, and, by extension, his and Jason’s identities.

It wasn’t his first choice, given the way he’d behaved in North Carolina, but the team did have a right to know who they were truly searching for. Plus, half the team already knew, and they didn’t need the secret tearing them apart when it mattered. Connor was angry about the secret and M’gann cried, but Kaldur just reacted like he saw this coming. Needless to say, they all received the extra motivation to keep searching for Dick.

Before that incident, they had been searching anyways, especially Wally, Roy, and Artemis. Artemis put two and two together fairly quickly after realizing that Wally wasn’t just doing this for her, and that Robin had not been to the cave since about the time of Dick’s disappearance, even though he had promised to be in that Saturday. As for the rest of the team, they were simply informed that Robin was out of commission, on a secret mission, and that the search for the missing Wayne heir was of upmost importance.

The team beat them to the port, and got started after showing the crew that they had a warrant to search the premises and talk to the crew members. Superboy and Kid Flash searched the cargo area and passenger rooms, while Aqualad, Artemis, and Miss Martian began questioning the crew. This particular ship, the _CS Coyote_ , doubled at a cargo and passenger ship in order to make more money. It was fairly cheap to travel on, cheaper than cruise ships, but not a lot of people took the voyage willingly. It was much faster and convenient, although debatably more expensive, to fly.

“Yeah, there were some kids on the last voyage out of Savannah, but I don’t believe any of them match your description as far as I know.” One of the crew members was telling Kaldur when Batman and Robin arrived. Batman stopped to listen.

“How many kids?” Aqualad asked.

“I didn’t count, but maybe twenty? There were some chaperones with them. I think a good number of them had black hair, but none of the kids had blue eyes. I mean, none of the ones with black hair had blue eyes. There was one or two with blond hair and blue eyes.”

“Were any of them one of these children?” Aqualad pulled out a book with all children they knew of who’d gone missing in the last half a year, including the ones believed to be taken by the terrorist group. The crew member shook his head as he studied the pictures. Aqualad flipped through the pages.

“Wait! Go back!” Aqualad flipped back a page, studying the man in front of him. “That girl,” he said pointing to a picture of a twelve year old girl with black pigtails, green eyes, and a big smile with two missing teeth. “I’ve seen her before, I think. She stuck out because there were only three girls in the whole group.”

“Are you certain this was the girl you saw?” Aqualad asked.

“Yeah. Well, pretty sure. Let me see that.” The crew member grabbed the notebook and started flipping through it. As he went, he was able to identify five more kids as having been on his ship on the last transatlantic passage and a few from previous voyages. Aqualad marked the ones he pointed out.

“Is that any help to you? We dropped them off in the South of France. We stopped off for some repairs before returning here, to the States, anyhow.”

“Did you see who took them?”

“Yeah, they got on a bus. I thought it may have been a tour group or something. Maybe a bus to a boarding school? Traveling by boat is odd when there’s airplanes… There was a truck too, but it may have been unrelated.”

“Were there any distinguishing signs?”

“Yeah. I remember there was some sort of symbol on the bus, but I don’t know if I could reproduce it for you. I’m sorry.”

“That is alright. What was the exact date you pulled into port? And around what time did the kids get off?”

“Well, we left on November 14th, and it took about three weeks. I think it was December 5th or 6th. I lose track of dates on the sea. The Captain’s log would say for certain. We pulled into port at 9 am, and the kids got off pretty soon after that, I believe. I don’t know the exact time because I was busy unloading cargo. The Captain may know more.”

“Alright. Thank you. If you think of anything else, please let us know.” Aqualad handed the man a business card.

“Glad to help. I hope you find them. I’ll see what I can find out. If I’d realized they were kidnapped… I’m sorry.”

“Do you think you saw the symbol well enough to have subconsciously memorized it?” Batman interjected.

“Yeah. I suppose so.”

“Good. Miss Martian may be able to help you reproduce it. Robin, take him to Miss Martian.” Jason nodded and took the man by the hand, leading him away. “Aqualad, talk to some of the other crew members. They may recognize some more of the children and be able to confirm that these children were on the ship. I’m going to talk to the Captain.”

“Yes, Batman.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You need to stop,” Alex said.

“No.”

“Dick, your hands are shaking. You’re going to mess up or hurt yourself.” Dick looked down at his shaking hands, and secretly focused on making them stop.

“They’re fine. Be quiet. You might wake up Dami. He doesn’t sleep well already.”

“And you think a stuffed cat—”

“Batcat,” Dick interjected.

“Batcat will help?” Alex paused for a second. “Wait, how is that supposed to be a batcat? Are you going to give it wings or something?” He smirked at the long-suffering glare his roommate gave him. “You know. I’m fairly artistic.” He gestured to the walls which had small paintings poking out in odd places. “I can help.”

Dick sighed and turned back to the half-finished toy. He almost had the face done, glad he’d managed to hide the mismatched but evenly sized buttons.

“I want him to be from me. I have a stuffed elephant at home, and she always helps me sleep. This should help Dami sleep. He won’t be perfect, nothing ever is, but I want to make him as close as possible,” he looked over the supplies he’d quietly gathered as rewards for translating and with help from Alex and then carefully hidden out of sight of Damian, so that the batcat remained a surprise, and the camera, afraid that the bluemen would try to take the supplies away. “But, if you can find some soft stuffing, that would be great. I think I’m running on the edge of their nerves. Probably won’t be able to get much more supplies on my own.” He shrugged, “Could you maybe try to find some yellow fabric as well?”

“I’ll do my best.” There was a moment of silence as Dick turned back to perfecting the cat’s nose. “You’re still shaking. Please take a break and work on it tomorrow.”

Dick shook his head. “They might take me for shots again tomorrow. If they do, I won’t be able to do anything on this for a few days. I can barely walk or write after shots as it is. I want to get to the stuffing stage tonight for the head, so he’ll be ready soon. I… I want Dami to be able to sleep better.”

Alex hesitated, and then spoke in a low tone. “Why do you care so much? We’re all prisoners here. What makes him so special?”

“He’s my little brother,” Dick answered simply yet firmly, committing himself to the fact.

“According to what?”

“According to me.” Dick pulled a final stitch through the cat’s nose and tied it off on the inside part of the face. He set the needle down and eyed his creation. Deciding it was satisfactory, he switched threads from yellow to white and started working on the mouth.

Alex sighed. “Can you please go to bed as soon as you finish the mouth? The lights are already dimmed. I don’t want to find out what happens if you’re not in bed when they go out. It’s like they’re a warning.”

“Okay.”

“Night, Dick.”

“Night.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick resisted the urge to reach up and yank down the blindfold as the bluemen led him through the weaving underground hallways. Something felt different from the last few times he’d been taken to get shots. Maybe it was the air? It felt a bit denser, more compressed, but that was probably just his imagination. He had been pumped full of chemicals again last night, after all. They didn’t normally go down a few flights of stairs right after the shots… Maybe the elevator was down? Or they took it already and were going to class? It had felt like more time had passed than usual, but, again, drugs.

Dick stumbled on a step and pitched forward, throwing his arms out to catch himself, but the bluemen caught him.

“Watch your step,” the one on his right joked. Dick scowled in response. Thankfully, the steps soon ended and he was led back out into the maze. Before too long, they reached their destination.

The room Dick was pushed into felt spacious and had plenty of people in it. He smelled sweat, and he heard voices talking in what sounded like a variant of French or German, but mixed with a lot of gibberish. He was guided gently to the center of the room and turned back the way they came, before they removed the blindfold and began doing some checks. They shined a flashlight in his eyes, had him catch a meter stick a couple times to test reaction speed, and checked his blood pressure, mouth, and ears. Stuff Leslie would always do when he went for a check-up along with a few extra things.

As they were doing that, Dick examined his surroundings. He definitely wasn’t in class, but he got that from the moment he walked in the room. Walls were gray, with numerous small bulbs around the walls about halfway up with a few lower or higher on each wall fairly high up, evenly spaced. There were several doctors around the room, three in front of him working at some kind of control table with a computer and a bunch of buttons and it sounded like one doctor behind with maybe…two?... extra bluemen. When he tried to look behind him, a blueman grasped his head and forced him to continue looking towards the door. There was definitely some movement back there, but he couldn’t tell what they were doing.

“Shirt off, kid,” one of the bluemen grunted at him.

“Huh?” Dick asked, intelligently.

“Shirt off,” when Dick didn’t comply right away, the man reached down and forced the shirt off, leaving Dick shivering. The other blueman took measurements of heart rate and breathing rate, before pulling back.

“He’s all ready, boss.” Ready? Ready for what? And the boss is in here? Dick’s eyes darted around trying to identify which of the people before him was in charge.

“Perfect. Get him set up, and we’ll commence phase two.” Wait, there was a _second_ phase? The chemicals weren’t enough? Dick felt his googles plucked from his head and then the blueman behind him nodded and grab ahold of his arms, starting to pull him backward. Dick locked eyes on the door past the blueman in front of him and carefully… stomped on the foot of the blueman behind him with all the force he could muster, head-butted the man in front of him, prompting cries from both, and sprinted for the door. He slid under the reaching arms of one of the scientists who rushed to intercept him and flipped over another before slamming into the door. He wasted no time yanking it open. _Who left their doors unlocked with loose prisoners? Idiots!_

Dick didn’t try to figure out where he was going or to think about what he was doing or how there was no way he could escape from the maze without any aid of any sort or to think about the consequences for his actions. He just ran. He did _not_ want to figure out what phase two of the torture would be. He turned corners left and right whenever he came to one to throw off any pursuers, slipping and sliding as he went.

After four turns, Dick spotted a man in a trench coat, not a blueman, in front of him coming out of a room. Dick picked up speed, jumping to flip over the man’s shoulders, but the man saw it coming and grabbed his wrists as he flipped changing the momentum to flip the kid onto his back.

Dick cried out and tried to yank himself free, but the delay was all that was needed for blueman to swarm out of the room the trench coat guy had come out of and grab ahold of the young teenager. They put a collar around his neck, which gave him a light shock as it clicked into place. Trench coat guy dropped Dick once the bluemen had a firm hold, and then tied the boy’s hands together behind his back.

“No! Let me go!” Dick cried as he looked around, analyzing his opponents and area, looking for an escape. All he truly noticed was that the room on his right, the one trench coat guy exited, was the Target Dump. He got a glimpse of some weak kids hooked up to IVs, before a blindfold was tied around his eyes, causing him to instantly buck his head back and try to shake it off. A hand grabbed ahold of his head and held it still.

“So, you survived the journey,” _Huh?_ Dick thought, confused. “Color me surprised. I thought a rich brat like you wouldn’t be able to ration his food and water and would run out within a week.” It was the rough voice… from the dock! But, what was he doing here? “Hmm, you sure seemed excited to see me, running right into my arms. Although, I suppose, you didn’t really _see_ me last time. You were blindfolded then, too. Still, I’m sure we’ll have lots of fun together, but in the meantime...” Trench coat guy—who needed a better nickname, maybe… Logarithm? Yeah, that worked—shifted from his spot near Dick. There was a light crackle before Logarithm started talking again.

“Lose something?” Logarithm asked. “He’s by the Special Processing Section. Yeah, we secured him. Alright, I’ll bring him back.” He snapped twice, and the bluemen holding Dick started to drag him back the way he came.

“No!” Dick cried, trying to fight his captors, but their grip was too strong for his weakened body.

“You’ll probably have to wait a while.” Logarithm continued, walking beside them. Dick continued to struggle and shout as Logarithm spoke. “So that his heart rate calms down to normal, but you might as well hook him up.” A pause, Logarithm leaned over, and clicked a button on the side of Dick’s collar, causing him to be instantly silenced, like the kids in the cafeteria the other day. “I understand that. You might need to wait a few hours, but the drug combination should still be active until this evening. He’ll eventually calm enough for you to proceed, especially if we leave him alone for a while after he’s secured. The day is not a complete loss. However, next time, you idiots better remember to lock the door. This can’t happen again. Understood? Good. We’re approaching the room now.”


	19. What Does 'Secret' Mean?

Chapter 16: What Does ‘Secret’ Mean?

Alternate Chapter Title: You keep on using that word 'Secret,' I do not think it means what you think it means.

“When will Dick be back?” Damian asked softly. Alex looked up from where he knelt on Dick’s bed, painting a new design on the wall.

“I imagine soon. He normally shows up for class on the day after he got shots, so, given that it’s Saturday, at least I think it is, they might be keeping him a bit longer than normal to sleep in before bringing him back.” He aimed a smile at the small boy, and then turned back to his painting. There was some shifting behind him, and Damian climbed up onto the bed and plopped down beside him. After a few minutes of peaceful silence, Damian piped up.

“Why are you painting my father?” Alex looked at the painting, and then looked at him in confusion.

“Your father? I’m not painting your father. I’m painting Batman. See. That’s his cowl.”

“Batman is my father.” He said it so casually that it took a second for Alex to process.

“That’s nice…” Alex muttered. Then, he paused. “Wait, what?”

“Batman is my father.” Damian enunciated each word, like he’d been taught by his mother, giving Alex his ‘are you stupid’ look.

“Batman… is your father?!?”

“Yes, according to Mother, anyways.”

“And your mother would be?”

“Talia al Ghul.”

Alex snorted. “Yeah, right.” He’d heard rumors of the al Ghuls, and none of them clicked with his picture of parents.

“She is! And she says my father is Batman and that one day I’ll get to meet him.”

“Wait, so, how do you know, for sure, that Batman is your father if you’ve never met him?”

“Mother says so.”

“Right, Talia al Ghul says that Batman is your father.”

“She does!”

“Tell you what, if—WHEN—we get out of here, Dick can talk to his father, Bruce Wayne, and maybe he could introduce you to Batman and you could find out for sure.”

Damian was silent, absorbing the new information, and then, “So, you’re saying Father would introduce me to himself?”

“No, I’m saying, Bruce Wayne might be able to introduce you to Batman.”

“But… Bruce Wayne is Batman. He can’t be in two places at once! That’s stupid. He doesn’t have superpowers! Doesn’t need them like that Superman! Batman’s super powerful without them.”

Alex stared at the boy, flabbergasted. “… Damian, what’s your full name?”

“Damian al Ghul Wayne… Why?”

“And… Batman is your father?”

“Yes.”

“Bruce Wayne is _Batman?_ ”

“Yes.” Alex grappled to find the words to express this new revelation. Damian said, “Is Dick’s father really my father?”

“Well… If what you say is true, then… yes. Dick’s adopted father is Bruce Wayne and if you’re…. if you’re Bruce Wayne’s son, then that would mean you share a father and are actually, really, truly brothers.”

“Really?” Alex nodded. “Wait, were we not brothers before? Dick said we were brothers…”

“No, you were still brothers. Just of a different sort. Now, you’re brothers under the law.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means that they can’t separate you as easily, and lots of other stuff, I’ll let Dick explain it… when he gets back.”

“Hmm.” Damian lay down on the bed and reached forward to poke the new Batman design. Alex grabbed his hand.

“Don’t touch. It’s still wet.” Alex said, prompting a pout from the finally acting normal-ish four-year-old. They sat together quietly for a while as Alex processed the new information and filed it into his mental ‘do not tell ANYONE of this’ box. Eventually, he realized, “Wait, if Bruce Wayne is Batman, does that mean that Dick is… Mio Dio! I can’t… If they find out… Mio Dio, this is not good.”

“What does Me-oo Dee-oo mean?”

“It’s… Don’t repeat it!!!!”

“Why? Is it bad?”

“Yes! Very Bad!”

“Me-uh Dee-o’s. Me-o Diooooo. Mio Dioo! Mio Dio! Am I saying it right?”

“Ugh. Just don’t say it around your brother, and if you do and he asks where you learned it, say your mother said it.”

“Naturally. It is only right that I should inform him of the origins of a new word.”

“Ugh. Dick, you better be back soon.” Alex muttered. And teach this kid the meaning of secrecy while you’re at it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The brat fought as hard as he could as he was carried back into the room from which he had escaped. The nurse ignored him and continued walking, followed closely by the man, the trench coat billowing around his ankles in a satisfactory manner. The man had to give the boy props; he certainly did make it pretty far. The Special Processing Section was quite a distance away from the ongoing experiments. His delinquency would offset the schedule for the day, but not too badly, unless he took the whole day to calm down.

“It will be worse for you if you continue to struggle.” He whispered in the boy’s ear leaning close before the nurses lifted the boy into the contraption. With some effort, they clicked the cuffs on his wrists firmly shut and tightened them, and then adjusted the height of the ankle cuffs appropriately. Finally, the nurses locked the chest and back plates into place and stepped away. The boy was still panicking, but he would be secure for the time being. Once the collar registered a pulse decrease to normal functioning, they would remove the collar and begin. The man turned and marched away, making sure to lock the door behind him as he exited.


	20. Batman is NOT a Vampire!

Chapter 17: Batman is NOT a Vampire!

Dick breathed heavily, as he scanned the room again for any doctors. As long as he could sense one or more in the room, he would continue to fight his body’s instincts. The rough voice from the dock, Logarithm, had said that they would get started as soon as he had calmed down. While he knew that staying in an agitated state was horrible for him, whatever they were planning to do could only be worse. So, he would not calm down. _Think negative thoughts!_ He told himself. _Now is not the time to be optimistic._

What if they killed him? They wouldn’t… right? He couldn’t die. Bruce, Alfred, Jason and a small boy with blue eyes were waiting for him to return, but the Bluemen wouldn’t care about that. Alex said several of the other kids had died and several had gone missing, presumably dead, in the time since Dick came to this place. That didn’t even taken in the fact that there were numbers up to 240, but there was nowhere near that many kids in the place. There were odd and even numbers, so they weren’t skipping around.

Well, if he had to die, he’d fight it with everything he had. Also, if he did die, Bruce would come and tear the Bluemen and Logarithm from limb to limb. He’d probably already gotten to the Dingbats. The Dingbats… Dick vaguely remembered the men who had first captured him and set up the ransom video. Most of the details had been lost during his torturous overseas voyage. Dick had nearly gone crazy from the isolation.

Maybe Dick had gone crazy. He could not be making this whole situation up. There were too many people involved with this whole operation. The pain was definitely real, but he swore he could hear a faint ticking at the moment, like on a clock. It was almost hypnotizing to listen to. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. The sound continued for a while, lulling him to a less agitated state without his permission.

As he listened, there was faint murmuring not far from him. Dick furrowed his eyes behind the blindfold. Something was wrong. He was forgetting something important as he began to droop and doze off. Maybe it could wait? The sound was much different from the lull of the ocean that had been a constant for such a long time, and he clung to it.

Dick felt the collar carefully removed from his neck. Why didn’t he want that to happen again? Oh yeah! He wasn’t supposed to calm down! But the tick tock of the clock was so soothing, and it sounded a bit louder than before. Something was being tightened around his wrists and upper body. One of the bluemen removed the blindfold as well, but Dick kept his eyes closed, focused entirely on the gentle clock noises, ignoring the part of his brain telling him to keep his senses open.

“Project P.U.M. Test Subject 169 from the subject pool at Andoxly. Commencing Phase Two Trial One.” _What?_ “Begin.”

With that one word warning, spike-like nodes sprung out of the metal pieces holding Dick in place and dug into his skin, startling him out of the trance. A low hum rose in volume, quickly overcoming the fainter sound of the clock. As the hum rose in volume, Dick felt first discomfort and then a strong itch across his entire body resonating from the points of contact.

“Activate Level One.”

Dick withered in agony as the hum reached a fever pitch and what felt almost like an electric shock spread through his veins. He could not hear anything and his eyes were screwed shut. He might have screamed. He wasn’t sure. After what felt like an eternity, the hum died down and the pain dimmed down slightly, but not completely.

There was a buzzing in his ears still. The nodes retreated and he slumped. The Bluemen released Dick from the contraption and moved him to a bed he hadn’t noticed before. His eyes darted all over, refusing to focus on the blurry world as murmurs sounded in his ears. He could make out something about a successful test and connection?

Later, he would vaguely remember submitting to tests and lying there strapped onto the bed until the world came into focus and the buzzing died down. Dick thought another kid may have come in at some point, been forced into place, and gone through the same experiment, but he wasn’t entirely sure of his recollections. Not too long after, Dick was stumbling back to his room, blindfold in place, soft bandages around his wrists, and a hand on his shoulder guiding him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dick!” Dick toppled backward as he was hit by thirty- odd pounds of excited Dami. He automatically put his arms around the kid, and pushed himself up from the ground. He attempted to reach through the fog around his mind, and used Damian as a focal point. Dick forced a smile onto his face.

“Woah, Dami. What’s up?”

“Dick! Alex says we’re brothers!”

“Well, yeah. I told you that earlier, remember.”

“Yes, but Alex said we were a different kind of brothers.”

“Really?” The smile slid away in his confusion. He looked up from Damian’s excited, nodding face to eye his other, surprisingly pale roommate. “Different how?”

“He said my dad was your dad, and we were the kind of brothers that people can’t easily separate and that we were brothers under the law, and you could explain it better.”

Dick quirked an eyebrow at Alex. Alex took a deep breath, sorted his face into an intense glare, and spoke in a soft tone, “Dami, why don’t you tell your brother what you told me earlier?”

“Huh?”

“You know, about your parents and your full name.”

“Oh!”

“Wait, full name? Dami, what’s your full name?”

“Damian al Ghul Wayne!” Dick fell back against the door as his arm slipped.

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really. Why do you not believe me?” Damian crossed his arms and scowled, although it looked more like a pout.

“Oh. No. I believe you. That actually makes a lot of sense. You… you look a lot like Tati. Is… is your mother Talia, by any chance?”

“Yes.”

“Wait,” Alex said. “You know Talia al Ghul…”

“Umm…” Dick said. “Sort of. She sort of…” He looked down at Damian. “Umm. Yeah.” He shifted awkwardly. Alex’s eyes widened as he realized what Dick was trying to say.

“So, did you know about Damian then?”

“Uh, no. Not until I met him here and then I didn’t think…” _I have a baby brother._ “Because there’s so much crap going on, you know…” _Like another one. I have another baby brother._ “Umm.” _He’s actually Bruce’s son, and legally my baby brother. This is… This..._ “Thanks for telling me, Dami. I’m sure Tati will be happy to meet you, when he finds us.”

“Right…” Alex said. “Well, you should probably know what else he said, while we’re at it.”

“Hmm,” Dick said. He honestly just wanted to go to sleep, but had a feeling that wasn’t happening soon. “What else did you tell Alex, Dami?”

“Nothing. I just told him who Father was. He was painting a picture of Father on the wall by your bed.”

“He was? That’s nice of you, Alex. Thanks. You must have a really good memory to paint Tati.”

Alex sighed, rolled his eyes to the ceiling, and pointed at the painting. Dick looked up in the direction he was pointing.

“…” _Oh… Crap!_ His eyes widened. “Umm. That’s Batman.”

“Yes. I’m aware that’s Batman. According to Damian, _your little brother_ , as you just confirmed, it’s also your father.”

“… Oh. Damian said, Damian, you said that?”

“Well, yeah. Father is Batman. Mother told me.” Dick sucked in a breath and met Alex’s eyes.

“You can’t tell _ANYONE_ ,” he furiously whispered.

“Of course, _Robin._ ”

Dick opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and looked Damian in the eyes with the most serious expression he could muster. Time to instill some of the Bat rules. “Damian, I need you to promise me _right now_ that you will not tell anyone else about Tati being Batman or me being Robin. If this gets out, it would put all of us in considerably more danger than we are already in. Do you understand?”

“But…”

“No but’s. Please promise, Damian. There are hundreds of people out there who would love to get their hands on the information. If they did, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill us and torture and kill everyone even loosely connected to us. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I understand.”

“Okay, now promise you won’t tell anyone else.”

“I promise.”

“You too, Alex. This can’t get out.”

“I promise, but.”

“NO BUTS! Swear you won’t tell.”

Sigh. “I swear on the graves of my parents. Is that good enough for you?” Dick hesitated, thinking it over, and then nodded. “I want answers.”

“Fair enough.” He took a deep breath and pulled Damian into a hug, and kissed him on the top of the head. “You’re a good baby brother.”

“I’m not a baby!” Damian pouted.

“Alex, you’re joining our Romani lessons. I don’t think any of the bluemen speak Romani, so it will be safe-ish to speak it even if they put a mic in.”

“Works for me.”

“Great, let me sit down, somewhere other than the floor, I mean, and then I’ll answer your questions.” Dick got up, picking Damian up as he went, and moved over to one of the desk chairs, sitting with Dami situated on his lap. He dodged a cuff from his brother for the treatment and said, “Alright. Ask away.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alex eyed his roommates as he mentally skimmed the long list of questions he’d thought of when he was younger that he would ask if he ever met a superhero. The thing was… Dick didn’t look like a superhero right now. He looked like a nervous, young teenager. Younger than a teenager even, he looked like a child who’d been hurt badly and wasn’t sure how to respond, but was trying to remain strong. Dick looked discombobulated, appearing to have trouble focusing his eyes. He was also fiddling with the bandages wrapped around his wrists. Alex was reminded of the torture from which the boy had just returned, and the fact that Dick was probably trying not to collapse on them.

The toddler of the room would look almost like a doll on Dick’s lap, if the kid hadn’t been fidgeting so much, poking his big brother for attention. Damian was so tiny and the kid frightened easily and often, although he tried to hide it. He was clingy at times, yet not overtly so. He was just clingy enough that the people who knew him well noticed it. Then, there was the fact that he was outright the youngest kid in the building, as far as Alex knew.

At first glance, no one would guess these two were Batman’s kids. Even after living with them both for a couple months, Alex didn’t think he would have put two and two together if Damian hadn’t blurted it out. It just didn’t compare with the image he got from the news, rumors, and stories.

Dick as an extreme fan boy almost to the point of stalker-ish-ness seemed a good explanation for his bedtime stories and slight obsession with the superheroes. Those people being his family… That made a lot of sense now that Alex thought about it.

“Well?” Dick asked, derailing Alex’s train of thought. Alex picked a starting point, and went with it.

“How did you become Batman’s sidekick? Bruce seems so protective of you from the news. It doesn’t really mesh that he would be under protective and allow you out on the streets to fight criminals and put you in even more danger.”

“Well, you could say that his protectiveness doesn’t actually go away on patrol.”

“Really?” Damian asked eyes wide.

“Yeah. If anything, it gets worse. He only lets me out because he knows I would go out without him if he didn’t.” Dick admitted to himself as well as the others in the room. “It’s happened before.” Huh. He never really thought about it from Bruce’s side before. “In fact, most of the times I was kidnapped as Robin or hurt on patrol were because I didn’t listen to him or wasn’t supposed to be out. I was really stupid at times…”

“But, he’s letting your brother, Jared, out now? The news didn’t report your disappearance.”

“Jason, and probably so that people don’t connect the disappearances. We had a contingency plan for my disappearance. Contingency Plan Jaybird. We’ve never used it before, but that doesn’t mean we wouldn’t. When it’s been long enough, he’ll probably try to stop Jason from going out, but it won’t work. Jason is even more hot headed than I was. He won’t go quietly.”

“Wow. That.”

“Yeah. Stubbornness runs in the family.”

“You’re adopted.” Alex deadpanned.

“It’s a learned trait.” Dick ran a hand through Damian’s hair to try to calm the bouncing.

“How many more of you are there?”

“That’s classified.”

“Seriously? You’re pulling that card?”

“I can’t talk about certain things.”

“Fine. That girl. The one you were with when you were kidnapped. Was she a hero too?”

Dick hesitated. His secrets were one thing; Artemis’s were another. “I can’t tell you that kind of stuff. They’re not my secrets to tell. Ask something else. Something I can tell you.”

“Have you been kidnapped more as Robin or Dick?”

“Umm. I don’t know. Bruce would know. I’ve honestly lost track, especially after the beginning of this one.”

“Is everyone around you guys involved?”

“Pfft. Of course not.”

“Does Father really drink the blood of his enemies?” There was a long pause, and then Dick burst into laughter, shortly followed by Alex. Dick almost tipped over, bringing the confused, four year old with him. He tried to answer a few times, but all that came out was more laughter. Damian blushed. “Stop laughing!”

“Sor-sorry, Damian. You’re actually not the only one to think that, but-” He gave another laugh and gasped for breath, “it’s definitely not true. It’s just always funny to hear.” He steadied himself and gently dropped his chin on the squirming child’s head. Damian stopped, and glared at the two. Alex got control over himself.

“In all seriousness, though, how many of those rumors are true?”

“Not many. Tati likes to start some of them, and I do from time to time as well. It makes our job easier, and thus safer, according to Bruce, anyways. I think I might have actually started the vampire one. Sorry, Dami. I’m not sure if I could pinpoint which ones are true, but I can try.”

“Does he sleep upside down? Is he actually a bat at night and a man during the day? Does he melt in the sunlight? Is it true he doesn’t show up in mirrors? Is he allergic to garlic? Is he repelled by crosses? Does he sleep in a coffin? Do you sleep in a coffin too? Does he have underlings? Are you his underling?” Damian stopped to take a breath.

“Okay… No to all of those. He’s not a vampire. Except the underling one is a yes. That’s Alfred. Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Dick, tell us which rumors are true.”

“Well, Daddy Bats, as Wally calls it, definitely exists. You don’t want to get on the wrong side of him, but you don’t want to hide information either.”

“So, if I escaped, but you didn’t, I should probably tell him what I knew.”

“Yeah. Even if I died. He would be furious, so you might want to back away, but if you say it right, he won’t hurt you. Just say you’re a friend of mine before you give any information.”

“So what? I would say ‘Hey, Batman? I’m a friend of your son, Robin. Umm. He’s in this building in this location, but I don’t know if he’s still alive. He was this amount of time ago?’”

“Yeah. Say that. He’d listen to you for that whole spiel.”

“Huh. I’ll remember that.”

“Anything else?” Dick pushed tentatively.

“Uh. Yes. Did you know the other sidekicks?”

“Yes.”

“Really? Which ones?”

“Umm. Most of them.”

“Close with any of them.”

“Yeah.”

“Which ones?”

“Most of them.”

“Cheap way out.”

“Next topic!”

“Do you have any cool scars?”

“… I have scars, but I wouldn’t consider them cool. My upper body is riddled with them, and then I have a really bad one on my left forearm.”

“The tattoo?”

“Yeah.”

Alex hesitated for a second, before plowing forward with his question. “What happened to your wrists? What did they do? You took longer to come back than usual.”

A flash of fear crossed Dick’s face. Dick opened his mouth to answer, “They…. Um… They… Phase Two” Dick forced out and then burst into tears. Alex was shocked, and he could see he wasn’t the only one as Damian just froze completely. Crying was so opposite Dick’s normal, strong personality that it took him a moment to snap out of it and go to comfort his friend. He pulled Dick into a hug sandwiching between them.

“Shh. It’s okay. You’re safe now. They’re done for the moment. They can’t hurt you.” Whoops. That backfired as the boy just started crying harder. “Err. Just let it out.” Oh great, now Damian was scared and starting to cry as well. “Actually, snap out of it! You’re scaring Damian!” No avail. “What do I do now? Please stop crying. I know it hurts. It’s kind of obvious and I’m actually kind of surprised this is the first break down but umm we’re here, so yeah. Pull yourself together. Err. I’m sure your dad will be here soon. We’ll get out of this. Please stop. I’m no good at this comfort thing.” Alex started humming, rocking back and forth trying to calm them down.

Alex sighed, “Well, this sucks.”


	21. Vitiligo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Batkitty. Glimare does. I still do not own Young Justice or Batman characters. That's all DC.

Chapter 18: Vitiligo

Roy hid his unease as he approached the classroom with the blueman guide. Today was the day, the day he was going to present his plan to his friends and hopefully get some feedback. He ran over the plan in his head again. He wasn’t sure how well it would work. However, Dick was from Gotham and Batman was also from Gotham, so _logically_ Dick would be able to point out any fallacies in the plan and make it work, as well as taking over the technical aspect.

Dick was already there when he entered, resting with his head in his arms. At first glance, he appeared to be fine, sleeping, but fine. That was not the case once Roy got closer. He resisted the urge to curse the bluemen out when he saw his friend’s condition. The way the boy was leaning, the needle pricks on his arms were fairly obvious, although those were nothing new. The bandages wrapped loosely around the boy’s wrists were new, but that wasn’t what really caught Roy’s attention. No, what really caught Roy’s attention was the thin streak of white that was mostly hidden in Dick’s dark hair.

He’d seen the white before. A couple kids had acquired the streaks in one of the experiments; he wasn’t sure which one. What scared him was that most of those kids had just gotten more and more tired until one day, they disappeared altogether. Roy did not want that to happen to his friend. This plan had to work, and they had to enact it soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Class passed slowly. Roy kept an eye on his friend. The teacher made Dick pick his head up early in the class, but it was perfectly clear that only the fear of being punished, which would lead to further weakness was all that was keeping the boy’s head up. Circles were prominent under the boy’s eyes. If it weren’t for the white, Roy would be able to convince himself that Dick only had a rough time sleeping the night before. Dick didn’t answer questions, and barely did the work, having to put a lot of effort into focusing. By the time the buzzer buzzed for lunch, Dick had fallen back asleep sitting up five times, but only been caught by the teacher twice. Maybe a rough night was the prominent factor…

Roy wrapped an arm around Dick’s shoulders to help him to the cafeteria after they were released from the chairs.

“Why are you so tired?” Roy asked, casually. Weary blue eyes glanced up and met his. Roy strained to hear the response.

“Didn’t sleep well. ‘ightmears.”

“Nightmares?” A nod. Okay, that was a probably a common side effect, or perfectly normal. Normal people had nightmares. “Oh well, that sucks. Anyways, there’s something I want to talk to you guys about. Mind if Charlie sits with us?” Dick shrugged. They ran into Charlie at the door and got in line for food.

Once they were all seated and eating, Roy looked around to make sure there were no bluemen nearby to eavesdrop. Satisfied they weren’t close or paying attention to the group, Roy said, “I have a plan.”

“A plan?” Alex asked. “A plan for what?”

“To escape, of course!” He stated. Alex, Dick, and Damian exchanged glances. “Don’t tell me you guys don’t want to escape?” He hissed. “They’re murderers here! If we don’t leave, we’ll all die!” Some sooner than others.

“It’s not that.” Dick stated hesitantly. “It’s that it’s still winter. We can see some snow in the courtyard. Leaving now, well, we don’t know where we are or if we’re near a major population center. We’re not prepared for winter. Not to mention getting everyone out will be extremely difficult because we might have more in number, but none of us are very strong. They don’t actually care if we die, and none of us are super soldiers. We’re a means to an end. What’s to stop them from shooting us on the way out?”

“Finer points.” Roy waved it away. Dick opened his mouth to protest, but Roy cut him off. “I have the outline of a plan. The finer points are where you guys come in. I can’t get everyone out myself.”

“They’ll kill us if we get caught conspiring.” Charlie brought up. “Five is nothing to however many they have here.”

“We’ll die if we stay and do nothing.” Roy argued.

“The Justice League—“

“The Justice League hasn’t found us yet and who knows when they will, Dick! We can’t afford to wait for them! More and more kids are dying and being tortured each day. We have to get whoever we can out!”

Dick winced. “Alright. What’s your plan? I’ll help you fine tune it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Batman sighed as he finally entered his room in the watchtower. He locked the door and took the cowl off, running a hand through his hair. The chat with the _CS Coyote_ ’s Captain Frank Warland had yielded far more than he expected. Warland sung like a bird when given the proper motivation. Well, not one of Batman’s birds, his birds were too loyal to crack that quickly. Not that they were birds, even though they called themselves Robin. They were bats. Plus, Jason only called himself Robin because Batman wanted time to disconnect Dick’s disappearance with Robin’s. Whoever had Dick would probably kill him instant if they found out he was Robin, and that couldn’t happen. Anyways, the saying still worked.

Batman had gained plenty of information to keep the search going, but the information itself was troubling. The Captain didn’t know where the children went once they left the ship, but he always dropped them off in the same port in the South of France. He also was well aware that they did not come to his ship by legal means. A mercenary seaman, Warland had kept the information quiet because he was paid well, but he was loyal to no one.

The most disturbing news was that not all the children had been allowed to roam around the ship or been given even the most basic of amenities. No, some of the children were hidden away in shipping crates, crammed in with a bunch of food. The Captain had discovered this on the last journey across the ocean and protested, but his bosses, whose names Warland didn’t know, offered him a higher price to keep silent. He knew there was one crate on the last journey, with a boy in it.

The Captain had been told not to open the box under any circumstances, but to make sure the air holes weren’t covered. The boy apparently had all he needed to survive the journey inside the box with him. The situation made Warland uneasy, especially when the journey lasted longer than expected. Yet, the infuriating man still ordered the man to stay out of the cargo bay for at least the first week, and then away from that section of crates. He at least put the box near a heater, but that was not nearly enough.

It was a good thing Batman hadn’t promised Warland any form of leniency because Bruce Wayne was roaring to give him the worst sentence possible for his crime. The punch to the face was not nearly satisfying enough to sate his anger. While there was no concrete proof it had been Dick in that box, and they would definitely search the rest of the ships just in case, Batman knew that anyone, and his son especially, would go at least partially insane. It was pure torture.

Dick thrived on light and friendship, as well as generally being around people. He loved open spaces and feeling the wind on his face. Cutting the boy away from all of that and throwing him into a small, dark, cold space he couldn’t even stand in with probably barely enough sustenance to last him the journey, and no more, was beyond cruel. Three weeks of complete, enforced isolation in such a small area with no promises of good to come when he got out most likely completely destroyed the boy’s spirit, his light.

It was wrong to even think about, and made Batman internally shudder. If Dick came through still clinging to his sanity, even by a thread, Batman would be completely impressed and thankful… and probably send him to therapy with Black Canary to recover. Hopefully, the therapy would have some effect. It had seemed to work after the failed simulation. By this point, Batman just wanted his kid back. He didn’t care if it was the same personality returning, and he would be incredibly worried if that were the case. Dick would be Dick and even a damaged version of his boy was much better than a dead version.

Batman sighed again, and forced his thoughts away from the condition his son was probably in. They’d get through it, but first they had to find him. He turned to his plans. They would need to send two or three people to France to pick up the trail and follow it. He couldn’t go because he was needed at home. He could probably check in from time to time, though. It would be best to send one of the team. Not Jason, because no way in Apokolips was he letting his kid go to another continent for an extended length of time, especially looking for his other missing son. Artemis had been with Dick when he was kidnapped, and that hadn’t been enough so Jason would be going nowhere without at least three other bodyguards… he meant people.

Most of the team had school. The one exception was Aqualad. It might be good for Wally to take some time off and join him, though. Wally’s grades were dropping rapidly lately. Batman was sure he wouldn’t mind retaking the semester later, so long as he was doing something to help the cause. Should he send a League member with them? Kid Flash and Aqualad were well known worldwide, although most people didn’t seem to be able to remember Kid Flash’s name. No, he’d send the two, and if they needed further authorization, they could call him or one of their mentors, and they’d be there as soon as they could.

With that in mind, he sent a message telling the two to meet him at the Mountain in twenty minutes. He’d propose the idea, give them two days maximum to discuss it with their parents and mentors, and then send them off. He sat down at the computer to start drafting a proposition to present to the Wests so that Wally would be able to get away with leaving this semester and retaking it another time and so that they’d see it as a good idea.

Hopefully, they’d find his boy before the end of the year and Wally could take summer classes to make it up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian didn’t normally make it back to the room before his brothers… well, brother and other roommate who was kind of like a brother. Anyways, the few times he had gotten back before them, as opposed to at the same time or later, he had only had a few minutes to himself before the two had arrived. Knowing he probably wouldn’t be waiting long, he climbed up onto his bed and kicked his feet back and forth.

Time ticked by slowly. The hallway outside seemed to have quieted down for a bit, with only a few people passing every now and then. There was still no sign of Dick or Alex. After what felt like _hours_ of waiting, the inevitable occurred.

The four year old got bored.

There wasn’t a ton to do in the room besides talk to and climb the others. Alex had somehow managed to get paints from the bluemen, and Dick might have figured out how to get some stuff too, but Damian didn’t know how to earn stuff. With the lack of things to do, Damian entertained himself for a bit by jumping on the bed. It was a fun sensation like floating that Mother disapproved of, but Mother wasn’t here right now. Dick said Mother was wrong about a lot of things, so obviously she must be wrong about jumping on the beds being out of his leagues. Yep, definitely wrong. Damian allowed a few giggles to escape.

Before too long, he got tired and laid down for a bit. He didn’t like sleeping without Dick there to protect him, so he fought off his instincts to sleep. The ceiling needed more color. Alex could probably help with that. Maybe he could paint the bat signal that Dick mentioned a couple of times in his bedtime stories, which were actually true stories with some edits that seemed to make his brother happier. Dick was always happy when Damian requested a bedtime a story, and seemed to sit a bit taller following the story.

Wait! Alex’s paints were in here, right? He wouldn’t mind if Damian borrowed some, right? Of course not! Those would definitely keep him awake until the two older boys returned. With that thought in mind, Damian sat up and scrambled over onto Dick’s bed, stepping carefully onto the desk next to the bed and started searching for stuff to do. As he rummaged through the drawers, he felt a sharp prick on his left index finger.

“Ow!” Damian jerked his hand back reflexively. Inspecting his hand for a minute, he located and pulled out a sharp, silvery thing with string hanging off it out. He carefully placed the silvery thing in a place he knew he wouldn’t touch again, and stuck his fingers in his mouth to make the hurt go away. He placed his right hand back in the drawer, searching more carefully, and was surprised when his hand landed on something large and soft. He grasped the lump and gently tugged it out.

Damian’s mind blanked upon observing the object. It was scruffy and obviously sewn with care, but he could not recall ever seeing it before. It had two ears that reminded him of a kitty, a tail, two mismatched button eyes, and some cool decorations. The stuffed cat had a cowl, like Batman in the painting, and a yellow utility belt with pockets that opened, although nothing would fit in them. There was no cape, but the animal was incredible soft.

After a moment of debate, Damian spoke up to his new toy, “I think I’ll call you Batkitty. You’re mine, now.” He nodded in satisfaction, carefully climbed back onto Dick’s bed, scampered onto his own, and curled up with Batkitty under the covers. Within seconds, he had slipped into dreamland.

**TWENTY THREE MINUTES LATER**

“I really wanted to give it to him though…”

“Don’t complain. He obviously likes it.”

“Should I tell him?”

“When he wakes up. Maybe he’ll even let you add the cape. We should probably let him sleep for now.”

Dick looked back and forth between the yellow cloth he had finally gotten ahold of for the cape and his peacefully sleeping baby brother. “Fine.” He tucked the blankets in more securely around the boy, and then turned away. “Do you want to build a fort?”


	22. Trial and Error

Chapter 19: Trial and Error

The train ride from Paris, where the Zeta Tube was, to the South of France, where the _CS_ _Coyote_ docked, felt far longer than he had expected. Wally loved that they could walk around on the train, and spent quite a bit of the time pacing to burn off his nervous energy. The rest of the time, they reviewed the information they did have regarding Robin’s case.

The information included a copy of the ransom video, pictures of evidence from the scene where the ransom was made and the original crime scene, the camera evidence from the port in Savannah that showed Richard Grayson being forced inside the warehouse, although the evidence of him leaving was foggy, the testimony of several crew members and the Captain, several of their false leads, and pictures of other children still missing and believed to have been related to the case. There was plenty more circumstantial evidence there as well, but overall, the file was the most important thing they carried, even if it was all copies.

“Can we go over the evidence once more?” Wally asked, poking his head into the compartment the two had rented for the journey.

“Alright, my friend. Would you care to begin?” He entered and plopped down on the seat opposite Kaldur.

“Sure, sure. So, the ship finished docking at approximately 8:30 am and began unloading boxes at 9:00. The Captain testified that the box he believed may have had a child in it was off the ship by 9:30 am, and the truck carrying it left before the rest of the children finished loading the bus, which left at about 9:45.”

“We know that the ransom was a fluke. And there were children, probably connected to the same company, in Le Mars, but they were long gone even before Richard-“

“Dick.”

“Sorry, they were gone long before Dick was kidnapped. So far, that has been a dead end, but it may be prudent to return there if our current lead does not pan out.”

“Yeah. We should do that.”

“Arriving in Marseille in 10 minutes,” A voice chimed over the loudspeaker. Wally groaned, and got up to pace again. Aqualad caught his arm.

“Perhaps we should take this time to make sure we have everything. It should not be far to the Port, but we cannot forget our identification documents, or the terminal operator may not give us the data we need.”

“Can’t we just say we’re with the Justice League? They should know Aqualad and Kid Flash.”

“Wally, we are not exactly the most well-known heroes and these operators may not keep up with foreign news. They probably only know Batman and Superman and possibly Wonder Woman or Martian Manhunter because they appear on the news the most often and have the closest relationship with the UN.”

“Oh. Well then.”

After making sure they had everything, the two teens left the train and went down to the port. They pulled aside one of the terminal operators and told him why they were there. He led them to the surveillance and records room and turned them over to the manager in charge.

“What do you mean you no longer have the tapes?” Kid Flash demanded.

“We keep them for 90 days under the law, before they become obsolete and we destroy them. It’s mostly the same thing, boxes being unloaded and loaded for hours. If we have any reason to be suspicious within those three months, we’ll keep the tapes and give them to the proper authorities, but, if not, we destroy them. The tapes from the week the _CS Coyote_ came in were considered obsolete over two weeks ago. We actually kept them for over an extra week— we had a back log—but it’s still too late. I’m sorry. We didn’t know to keep them, and extra room can be loaned to more ships to earn more money for the port.”

Kid still looked upset, but the reasoning was sound. Aqualad addressed the lady helping them. “Thank you for the assistance. The records should be enough, for now. May we hold onto these?”

“I’d prefer we kept a copy on record, company policy and just in case, but we have two copies. You can take one of the copies for evidence. I hope you find the missing kids.”

“We will do our best. Thank you again. Can you show us the way out, please?”

“Yes. This way.” She led them out after locking the records door behind them.

“It is not a complete failure,” Kaldur assured Wally once they were on their own again. “These records may be able to lead us to the company. If we can even find a figurehead company, we may be able to track down the real company, and Dick and the rest of the missing children from there.”

“Yeah. I still wish we could have at least gotten confirmation that he was alive.”

“Even if we had been able to see the tapes, chances are we would not have seen Dick. Captain Warland admitted they didn’t open the crate for anything, and he wasn’t even sure there was someone in there. That includes when they were off the ship. They probably removed him from the crate outside of Marseille, far away from the port.”

“I still have trouble believing that anyone could be that cruel. Dick hates being enclosed, and you know how he is around people.

“Yes.” Kaldur sighed. “Dick thrives on attention and he is so young. I am afraid we are searching for a broken bird.”

“Hey! Don’t give up on him! Dick may have bounced back. He’s probably taken over and is waiting for us to arrive so he can laugh and ask what took us so long.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick plunked down in the seat next to Roy, without looking at him and put his head in his arms. “Is everything ready?” Dick spoke under his breath. “Did you account for Logarithm? He’s been around a lot more recently.” Roy put his chin in his hand, covering his mouth in a pretend yawn.

“Almost. It’ll be ready by tonight. Logarithm is leaving at 5.” Roy hissed back. He subtly examined his friend’s head to check the progression of the white streaks. They were fairly more prominent now, but Dick probably hadn’t noticed them yet. “Good name, by the way. I think he got a promotion or something. Find a way to stay out of your room. When you can, sneak away and get to the control room. Knock out any bluemen in the control room. You’ll be in charge of unlocking all the doors and looping the footage. Keep the situation away from Logarithm’s ears as long as you can. Alex will get everyone out of the Special Order unit; I will distract and get the kids from the Target Dump. Charlie will clue the rest of the kids in to what’s going on, and grab some help to get as much food as he can, leaving out the kitchen. We move at 5:20.”

“Are you sure you should distract? I mean, shouldn’t we-?

“Yes. I’m sure. Just take out the security.”

“Fine. What about Dami?” Roy spread his arms as he yawned and slipped a chip into Dick’s crossed arms before putting his head down on his desk as well.

“Take him with you. He can be your lookout.” They were silent for a couple minutes. Dick closed his eyes to take a nap until the teacher came in to start the class. Roy shifted. “Make sure you get out, too. They won’t be gentle if they catch us, and I’m not about to let them kill you.”

“Aww. You do like me.”

“Unfortunately.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Dick said to the bluemen who were leading him, Alex, Dami and Batkitty down the hall. He looked at Damian.

“Me too!” The kid got the cue instantly. Dick resisted the urge to smirk proudly. “I have to go to the bathroom, too!” The bluemen exchanged glances.

“You have to go, too?” One of them asked Alex. He shrugged.

“Not at the moment, but I can, so I don’t have to go later.”

“Fine,” They switched directions, going to the bathroom.

As they entered the bathroom, Dick turned to one of the bluemen, rolling his eyes as they were followed inside. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have the time, would you?”

The blueman snorted. “Of course, I have the time. It’s 5:13.”

“Awesome. Thanks.” They took their time. As Dick washed his hands, he calculated the positions of everyone in the room. Damian and Alex were both tense, on the other side of Dick, waiting for him to do his thing. The blueman inside was fidgeting, impatient, and not truly paying attention to the three in the room. The other blueman was just outside the door. Perfect.

He took the blueman out with a flying kick to the head. He grabbed a paper towel from the holder, balled it up, and shoved it into the man’s mouth, then quickly shoved him in a stall and braced the door so it would be difficult to open. Dick stood up and nodded to his two slack jawed roommates. They closed their mouth, switching their expressions to determined and nodded back.

“Hey, what’s going on in there, Paul?” The second blueman entered the room, and looked at the three boys standing there. “Where-?” Dick sprang forward with a punch, followed by a sweeping kick, knocking the man’s legs out from under him. He jumped on top of the man, and shoved another balled up paper towel into his mouth. He grabbed the coil of rope the blueman kept for trouble makers, and used it to tie the man’s hands up and secure the gag, and then shoved him into a nearby stall as well. He grabbed the man’s ID card before shutting the door and bracing it.

“Woah.” The slack jawed faces were back. Dick gave a little bow.

“Let’s go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In retrospect, keeping Charlie and himself out of their dorm had been relatively easy. All he’d had to do is stumble and shake. The bluemen didn’t know what was going on, but it brought the focus on him, allowing Charlie to slip away towards the lower levels and the kitchen. Once his comrade was clear, Roy stopped shaking and lay still on the floor, quietly slipping off the slippers because they would only impede his progress from this point. A blueman leaned down close to him, and he flipped the man onto the floor, quickly relieving him of his weapons and starting to fight everybody who came near him. He held back until one of the bluemen had called for help and then went all out, bringing all the attention he could to him.

When the bluemen started to get too big of an advantage in number, he flipped over the group, stepping on heads to gain distance, and ran down the hall away from the outer doors. He broke windows and crashed into walls, putting as much into his distraction as he could. Even more bluemen appeared to try to cut him off as he led them away from the cells.

As more began chasing him and he began to slow down with all the turns in the maze, losing some of his pursuers, the dodges got narrower and narrower. Luckily, he soon ran into the exact thing he was searching for: the stairs. Three flights down to the Target Dump, he thought to himself, jumping over the railing and hopping down the bannisters to move faster. He shoved the door closed on the right floor and braced it best he could at a fast pace, and then shot off in the direction he believed the Target Dump was.

The corners were tough on his bare feet, but Roy managed. Before long, he crashed into someone coming out of the Target Dump and leapt into battle mode.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick snuck down the hall, closely followed by his little brother, using every stealth move he knew. He heard clanging indicating Roy’s distraction was doing its job around the time he reached the control room. He indicated to Dami that the kid should stay outside, slipped in, and made quick work of the three inside. He tied them up with their own handcuffs and gagged them with duct tape that happened to be in there. He opened the door for Damian, who instantly took up position to keep a good watch while staying hidden, like they’d discussed. Apparently, the Shadows had taught him some useful skills. Batkitty was tucked into Damian’s waist belt so that he wouldn’t lose the toy.

Using the ID card, and the fact no one expected someone to break into the control room for some reason, Dick had security down in next to no time. He unlocked and opened one of the outer doors. On one of the monitors, he saw Alex start to open the Special Order doors. Dick continuously had to refresh the unlock feature so that they stayed open long enough for him to get the whole hall out. As he kept an eye on the situation, Dick got to work downloading all the data he could onto a flash drive he’d nicked from one of his classes, compressing it so more could fit. It wasn’t really a part of Roy’s escape plan, but it gave him something to do while ensuring the other kids got out okay. Plus, the data would help bring the organization down and prevent them from just getting new kids and starting someplace new.

Within a couple minutes, the drove of kids, both special order and regular, was shoving their way out into the crisp, early spring air. He saw that Charlie had been quick in his task and was racing out through the kitchen door with a good half the kitchen loaded into bags by him and his companions. Dick made sure to deactivate all the alarms near the back door as they left. It looked like the escape was progressing enough that he and Damian could go join the main group.

“They’re coming,” Damian cried from his spot at the doorway.

“Rahat,” Dick hissed as the security system got a sudden boost from an outside source. “Damian, get inside, shut the door, and lock it. Then, come over here.” He heard the kid do so. Dick removed the flash drive and fisted it. He felt arms go around his leg, and quietly slipped Damian the flash drive in a slight of hand.

Not even a minute later, there was a bang against the door. Dick quickly erased the security tape of the past hour and made sure cameras would stay down for the next half an hour. Then, he started breaking everything he could, so they couldn’t electric lock the outer doors and stop the tide of escaping kids. “When they open those doors, we’re going to have to run.” He told Damian in Arabic so the tied up guards in the back of the room couldn’t understand. “We’re going to have to force our way past them. If I get caught, keep going. Catch up with the crowd. I’ll join you later.”

The arms around his leg tightened, but before Damian could say a word, one of the guards who they’d thought was secured lunged at Dick, having found his handcuff key. Dick let out a yelp as he fell across the control table and his leg was wrenched from Damian’s grasp. The shock at the unexpected action was just enough for the blueman to get a good grip on the young teenager. The door burst open as the blueman screwed Dick’s arms up behind his back so that his fingers touched his shoulder blades. “Run!” Dick cried in Arabic to his shell shocked little brother. Damian snapped to attention and raced out the door, dodging the bluemen.

“Well, that’s one.” One of the bluemen entering said, pulling out a bit of rope to secure the struggling child. “What took you so long?”

“Brat has some skills there. He knocked us out and tied us up with our own handcuffs. Just woke up and had to wait for my vision to clear and to get the handcuffs unlocked before attacking. Did you catch the little one?”

“No, but he was probably coerced into helping. He’ll be punished, no doubt, but this one…” Dick whimpered. The blueman speaking examined him with a sadistic gleam in his eyes. “This one we can give over to the boss to do with as he sees fit.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They dragged the two boys to the wooden poles in the corner of the cafeteria. The smaller boy was bucking and screaming, fighting with everything he had, but ineffective against the strong arms, which grasped him. The taller, older boy went along calmly, seemingly accepting of his fate. They shoved the two boys to their knees and grabbed their arms, undoing the rope around the smaller one just enough so that they could handcuff his wrists behind the pole. They cuffed the older one’s upper arms tightly, winding rope around to keep them in place. The smaller boy squirmed, prompting them to tighten the ropes so that he couldn’t move.

All the other children who’d been recaptured were shoved into the large room as well, polluting the air with their fear. There were maybe 60 or 70 left of the nearly 150 subjects who had been there before the escape. The far door slammed open, causing many of the children to flinch in fear. Logarithm stormed in, positively steaming, dragging another child behind him, one who he practically threw into the crowd.

“How many?” He demanded, picking out the nurses in the crowd.

“Sir-”

“How many brats got away?” He roared.

“Eigh-eighty-three, sir.”

“Eight-three? EIGHTY-THREE ESCAPED?!?” A small, proud smile appeared on the face of the young boy behind him while a smug grin grew on the face of the older boy.

“Yes, sir.” Logarithm turned around to face the culprits. The smaller boy’s smile instantly faded to be replaced by subtle, almost hidden fear as the furious look focused on the two of them. The older boy glanced at his friend and scowled slightly, but seemed more defiant than scared. Logarithm took a couple deep breaths to calm down before marching to the corner. He stopped directly in front of the younger, more impressionable boy, who was squirming again. He bent down so that he was about two inches from the kid’s face glaring directly into his eyes as the kid shrunk away. Logarithm slowly wrapped a hand around the back of the kid’s head, causing him to still; a trick which never ceased to work.

“You planned the escape, didn’t you? You, the little rich brat and the one armed orphan.” His voice was soft, yet deadly, carrying to the entire room.

“I resent that,” the older boy stated. “I’m only missing a little under half my arm.”

Logarithm ignored him, and removed a pair of red googles from the smaller boy’s head and tossed them away, causing the kid’s breath to catch. Logarithm put a hand on his shoulder and then finally took a step back from the smaller boy, not letting go. With his other hand, he searched the older boy and pulled out a red arrow shaft complete with feather from the older boy’s sleeve.

“Sir, we suspect these two of being the masterminds, but they’ve both been relatively successful in their respective projects. It would be a waste to kill them, especially after losing so many,” One of the braver nurses spoke up.

“Is that so?” Logarithm whispered silkily, turning to face the nurse, while still keeping his hand on his captive’s shoulder, lightly rubbing it. Fear sparked through the boy’s eyes again. The nurse nodded.

“Yes, sir,” the nurse took a deep breath once the gaze moved away from him.

“One more child gone would not make that large of an impact in comparison to eighty-three,” Logarithm observed relishing in the expression on his impressionable victim’s face. He smirked, and then stood and walked away from the two boys. He grabbed a gun from one of the nurses and spun to address the crowd of failed escapees.

“Attempts to leave are unacceptable behavior here, and the punishments for such behavior are extreme. Doubtless to say, these two ‘geniuses’ will be taught their lesson. One will live to tell the tale.” The tension in the air was delicious and invigorating, refreshing Logarithm as he spoke with a sadistic smile.

“Now,” He glanced back at the smaller boy. “You’re from Gotham City, aren’t you rich brat?” The kid was shaking, but managed to give a small nod in response to Logarithm’s glare. “I heard there’s a villain there. Name’s Two-Face, I believe. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?” The boy’s eyes widened. All the color that remained drained from his face and the shaking increased, complete with him shaking his head. The older boy finally stiffened, before starting to attempt to comfort the smaller boy.

“You have? Good. I’ve heard he likes chance, allows chance to decide who lives and who dies. Well,” Logarithm pulled a coin from his pocket with a flourish. “Heads, the rich brat dies. Tails, the one-armed orphan,” Logarithm grinned and threw the coin into the air.

The whole room could hear the clink, clink, woooooooo, as the coin hit the ground, bounced, and spun to a stop. Logarithm leaned forward to look at the coin. The tension in the room climbed to an all-time high. He faced the two boys, his grin as wide as it could get. Satisfaction leaked from his tone as he aimed his gun.

“Well. What do you know? It’s heads?”

“NO!” Roy shouted.

BANG


	23. The Shock Factor

Chapter 20: The Shock Factor

The darkness was oppressing. The room was larger than the crate, but there was no air holes bringing in miniscule streams of light. The air vent was nearly silent, nearly invisible, blowing cool air. The few times he’d been let out to be tortured or to get his next injection, he’d been blindfolded and the lights dimmed so that he couldn’t see any light. The darkness was a constant. Curled into a little ball, the only sound coming from the boy was sobs.

It was better than a week ago. When they had shoved him in there, he’d been in complete shock, Roy’s blood splattered all over his previously white clothes. Even now, the scene kept replaying through his head. Being tied to the poles. The coin flipping, flipping, flipping down, down, down, and spinning until it stopped on heads. Then, he was staring at the barrel of the gun, Logarithm’s finger moving onto the trigger, and… And Roy broke free and jumped in front of him, in front of the bullet’s path. The blood was everywhere. He’d been hit right in the chest. And then, and then Roy had looked at him, looked with... something in his eye. Relief? Regret? Pain? Well, the pain had definitely been there, but why had he done it?

Then, just as Roy opened his mouth to say something, some last words, Logarithm had shot Roy again. In the arm and then in the head. The boy may have yelled something, but he couldn’t remember. Everything following that point was a blur until the darkness took over.

Even a week later, at least, he thought it was a week, he still didn’t understand why Roy had jumped in front of the gun. He didn’t understand why Roy had saved him. HE was supposed to be doing the saving, not Roy, goddammit. Some bat he made. Roy was the true hero here. He hadn’t even succeeded in getting Damian out or in preventing Logarithm from hearing of the failed escape.

And it was a failure to him. They had only managed to get a little over half the kids out, from what he could tell. Only 83. And as Logarithm savored telling him during his daily, torture sessions, many of those kids had been recaptured already and the rest were probably starving and freezing to death in the chilly, early spring weather.

The torture sessions were mostly psychological and emotional torment, so that Logarithm didn’t interfere with whatever the Doctor and bluemen had planned for him physically. Logarithm also liked to remind him that his progress in the experiment was the only reason he was still alive.

He had been upgraded to going into the contraption every other day for brief spurts, and his body was constantly aching, shivers running up and down his back periodically. It seemed that he’d more than halved the kids in his experiment because there were never any others in the room during the cool down period. That is to say, he never heard anyone else enter while he was tied down to the bed so the doctors could wait for the spasms to slow down. Most of his time was spent in the small, dark cell.

So, yeah, the escape attempt was a dud, but maybe some of the kids would make it to civilization and contact help? Logarithm hadn’t given him an exact number of the kids recaptured, so maybe there weren’t as many as he though?

Oh, who was he kidding? They had no chance out there in the mountains. Most of the kids were from cities, not wildlife areas. While Roy would be able to identify most poisonous plants and what was edible or not, he was dead. Someone was bound to eat something poisoned and be unable to get help, and it would be all his damn fault.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time was a fluid. It ebbed and flowed and trickled like honey depending on the situation. So, when time is immaterial and there is no clock, how was someone supposed to know when an ordeal was nearing its conclusion? There was no day and night and only guesses at constants.

When they finally decided to ease up on the restraints, Dick had no idea how much time had passed. One week? Two? A month? He didn’t even know it was over until they had deposited him in his old room and allowed him to take the blindfold off. It hadn’t been fully over though. They fastened an anklet around his right ankle and a collar around his neck. The anklet meant that he needed to be within five feet of a blueman or it would set off an alarm. The only exceptions were his room and the classroom, where the anklet was nullified by a signal and the desk cuffs respectively, as well as the lunchroom, where the range was extended to fifteen feet.

He learned later that everyone deemed to be involved in the escape attempt, meaning Alex and Damian, as well as everyone recaptured received an anklet, but he was the only one to receive the collar. The collar silenced him and allowed him to be punished for the smallest infractions from a distance. Logarithm and whoever was his supervisor at the moment both held remotes. The only time the collar and anklet came off was when he was hooked in for the next round of experiments. The bluemen didn’t want interference in their tests.

Yeah. That’s what his life had been reduced to. Walking around in a daze, unable to speak, prodded, poked, shocked, not knowing how long had passed, frequently punished, and reminded of his failed attempt at an end to the ordeal. It took prisoner to a whole new level, and wore him down past his breaking point.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The boss hadn’t pulled any stops. He left no time or method for the kid to bounce back, to recover. The boy’s shocked and depressed state pervaded, even past the time he was released back to the main group. The Doctor took note, and wondered how it was affecting the experiment. He requested they find a way to snap him out of it, so that the results stayed the same. After all, they couldn’t put every kid they were experimenting on in the same state for a control. It would be far too destructive. Plus, the ability to only show fear and sadness did not allow for fully accurate observations.

The white hair that had been prevalent in previous experiments was coming at a much faster rate on the numb boy following the failed exodus. Seeing as the more white the sooner the subjects expired, this was cause for concern. The experiment was a longer one, and, as such, there were quite a few subjects currently on Phase 1 with the latest shipment, but the boy was one of only four remaining in Phase 2 at the moment.

If they could find a way to snap him out of the shock, they could potentially push through with the next stage. The timetable originally proposed set it in one week’s time.

One week to break the shock, but keep his cooperation. Shouldn’t be too hard. They just needed a push.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick was always so sad now. He didn’t smile, didn’t talk, barely acknowledged his presence, or really anyone’s presence, but most importantly his. After all, it didn’t matter if Dick was ignoring everyone else, so long as he paid attention to Damian. After all, Damian WAS his little brother.

Damian furrowed his brow and tugged on the older boy’s arm again. It wasn’t right that Dick should ignore him. It was like he didn’t even feel the tugging. Damian growled at him and poked him in the side, while still grasping the older boy’s hand. Dick snapped out of his funk enough to turn and look at the boy with dull eyes.

“I demand your roll,” the young boy stated, glaring at Dick as if Dick was behaving incompetently. He sat up a bit on his knees in the seat next to Dick as he made his demand.

“Damian,” Alex sighed, going to reprimand the boy, to remind him Dick wasn’t okay, and so was caught off guard when a ghost of a smile crossed the traumatized teen’s face. He slowly handed Damian the roll, gave him a ruffle, and turned back to what remained of the food he’d been fiddling with more than eating.

Damian grinned, and nibbled on the roll, satisfied with the attention given.

Unbeknownst to the group, one of the bluemen was watching nearby. He smiled as an idea came to mind. He took a few steps back and pulled out his radio. “Doctor, I think I may have a solution to 169’s shock factor.”

Fifteen minutes later, the kids began to release to their classrooms. The schedule of release as well as which classes kids were in had been reorganized following the mass exodus two weeks before. The classes were smaller and the troublemakers spread out. Lunch had also been reorganized, with bluemen patrolling the aisles of the seating area to check conversations. They had taken a gamble by staying in the same location, but hoped their facade as a mental institute would hold. The bosses were working on a plan to deter the Justice League, who had been searching extra hard for them lately, without directly threatening the UN, but it hadn’t come together yet.

Two of the bluemen kept Dick and Damian back from going to class, keeping them in the cafeteria until all the students cleared out and were secure in classrooms. After that, the two boys were blindfolded and lead to one of the less dark detention rooms on the East side of the building. They locked Dick into a chair, but bound Damian onto the table with leather straps. A blueman took off Dick’s blindfold and collar. He watched them stonily, but the blueman thought he may have seen a flicker of confusion.

They closed and locked the door.

Dick turned his sluggish gaze to his little brother. Through the mental shield he’d formed, his instincts were rearing up, telling him to get out of the chair and leave. But, there was a no way out and no point in resisting. Resistance would only lead to more pain, and nonresistance would lead to less, right?

Why was Damian here though? He hadn’t been here for previous torture sessions. Why was he here now? And why was on the table instead of a chair… Oh, the restraints were probably too big, that was all.

Logarithm entered, causing a chill to quickly pass up Dick’s back. “Still causing problems, are you?” He asked. The man smirked at the blank look that faced him and then observed the little one on the table. “Hmm. What have we here?”

“Dick, what’s going on?” Damian asked, sensing the man above him, but unable to see him. Dick’s eyes flicked to the boy, and then continued watching Logarithm. Dick sat up a bit straighter when Logarithm took a step closer, looming a bit too close for comfort. The giant smirked.

“So, here’s the deal.” Logarithm said, running his fingers down Damian’s face. “You’re doing a bit too abnormally in a fairly important experiment, but the little one’s experiment is less important and wouldn’t suffer much from his loss. You’re going to get out of your little funk and do as we say. You won’t talk about leaving or try to do so again, and we’ll let you keep your collar off. If you don’t, well, you won’t be the one getting hurt.”

“Dick…” Damian whimpered.

“Do you understand?” Dick’s wide eyes stared at the monster in front of him, taking in exactly what he was saying.

“I said, do you understand?” Dick nodded frantically.

“Hmm. No verbal answer? Well, maybe then I’ll just have to show you what I mean.” He raised his hand above Damian.

“No!” Dick cried.

“No? No, you don’t understand?” The hand came flying down like a karate chop, hitting Damian’s ankle with considerable force. The young boy cried out.

“Dick!”

“NO! I mean, yes! I understand!” Dick said quickly.

Logarithm hit Damian’s ankle again, this time with a loud crack filling the air. Damian started crying, trying to twist away from the pain.

“Leave him alone! Please, leave him alone! I won’t fight back or try to escape, just please, leave him alone!”

Satisfied, Logarithm stepped away from Damian. “Good boy. For that, I’ll even let you tend to him.” He unlocked Dick from the chair and then left the room as Dick surged forward to help Damian. Dick quickly unbuckled the straps, snatched Batkitty from the floor, pushed the stuffed toy into Damian’s arms, and pulled the boy into a tight hug, closing his eyes and crying as well.

“Well, that went well.” One of the bluemen, who was watching from behind a one way mirror, said to Logarithm as the man reentered the room. Logarithm grunted.

“You should probably help them. I doubt the brat knows how to fix broken bones. You might want to switch the little one into his class too, so that we keep them together at all times, if this is to work.”

The blueman grunted. “We’ll need the Doctor and an x-ray machine to set it properly. You definitely got your point across.”

“So, go get him. I’ll make sure the brats don’t try to leave. Although, if I really made my point, they won’t even try.” The blueman nodded and scrambled off. Logarithm continued watching the brat try to comfort the toddler. It was amusing to say the least.


	24. Too Close for Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up. Italics in this chapter and at least the next one are Romani speech.

Chapter 21 Too Close for Comfort

When the car stopped, they were in front of an old, seemingly abandoned building in the middle of nowhere. The men pulled the blindfold off before letting them out. Dick had been given shoes, but Damian had not due to his cast. Alex had decorated the cast once he got over the fact they had broken Damian’s ankle. It was incredibly colorful and he’d included the Bat symbol, and on Dick’s insistence, the Robin symbol. Dick wasted no time scooping up the smaller boy, once he was out of the car. The men surrounded them, one leading and two behind, as they were shoved towards the building.

The two boys were led into a small, fairly dirty room. The man in front of Dick stopped suddenly causing him to bump into him, lightly. Dick tightened his grip on Damian, who was watching the men with a perplexed expression, analyzing their goal most likely. While it was nice to get out of the prison they had been kept in, it was an odd and completely unexpected move. They weren’t planning on killing them now, were they?

There were already a couple men in the room, wearing masks. There was a scaffolding of sorts set up: two poles with ropes hanging down. A chill ran down Dick’s back as he also took in a video camera, and a few blank tapes. The scaffolding was about the right height for him, too. What were they planning? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He heard a click, and looked back to see that one of the men had locked and bolted the door behind them.

Damian bopped Dick in the head, and looked in his eyes. Dick forced his heart rate and breathing to slow, and gave his baby brother a reassuring smile, one that passed on as much as he could manage that it would be alright. Contradicting that action slightly, he took his goggles off and placed them on Damian’s head. On the one hand, it was a measure to make Damian feel slightly safer. On the other hand, it made Dick feel slightly less safe. Stupid conditioning.

One of the men turned to Dick and tried to take Damian. While Damian protested, Dick instantly backed away to get away. In doing so, Dick backed right into another man, who instantly wrapped his arms around Dick’s waist, and lifted him so that he couldn’t get purchase on the floor. Dick had a sharp intake of breath, and his grip around Damian loosened slightly. In his moment of distraction the first man reached forward again and ripped the smaller boy from his brother’s arms, prompting two cries. Damian held firm, but the strength of a weakened five year old is nothing against a full grown man, and his struggles led to Batkitty dropping to the ground where they could not reach it. Both boys fought their captors.

“STOP,” a familiar, rough voice called out. The men instantly froze, although not loosening their grip on the boys. Dick stopped too. He recognized Logarithm’s voice. Damian continued biting and kicking, although his efforts seemed to have no effect on his captor. A tall, muscled man walked into view.

“Stop,” he glared at Damian. Seeing the glare, Dick said in Romani.

 _“Damian, stop. You need to be still now. We don’t know what they’re planning.”_ Damian stopped, and turned his eyes to his brother, searching for a promise of safety. Dick smiled gently at him.

Logarithm nodded, then gestured the men into motion. They brought Damian behind the camera and carried Dick—his feet were still dangling above the ground; God, he hated being short—towards the scaffolding. Dick kept his eyes locked on Damian’s, ignoring what was happening to him. “Listen brats. You’re going to help us send a little message to the Justice League.” Dick perked up. He could work with that.

“I know what you’re thinking. The Justice League? They can solve anything! They’ll be here real soon so long as I give them some hints! Well, scrap that thought from your brain. If we see anything that could act as a signal on the tape, we’ll film it again. And again. Until it is perfect.” While he was saying this, the men forced Dick’s shirt off, and were tying Dick’s wrists to the scaffolding so that he could just barely touch the ground with his toes. They also took his shoes. He chose to mostly ignore them, in favor of keeping a calming gaze on Damian.

Logarithm strode forward and grabbed Dick’s chin, forcing Dick to break eye contact and look at the tall man. “You can make as much noise as you like, but not a single word or sign. I’ll look over the tapes, and if I see anything suspicious, the little tyke over there will be harmed and we will film it again, and we really don’t want that, do we?” Dick gave a sort of nod, and the man released him. Dick watched him for a second in trepidation before turning his attention back to his little brother. 

“Cover his mouth.” The tall man said to his compatriots holding Damian. They immediately did so, causing both boys to protest. Dick was more vocal, telling them to make sure he could breathe—that statement caused the man to double check his grip. Ignoring Dick for the moment, Logarithm leaned in towards the younger boy. Damian shut up, gazed fixed on the threat. “You, little tyke, will not make a peep. Absolute silence. Don’t even move. Understood?” Damian looked at Logarithm, glanced back at Dick who nodded slightly, not liking where this was going, and then Damian gave the tall man a small nod. Logarithm smirked, and swept away to center stage.

“Are we ready?” The cameraman nodded, aiming a camera at Logarithm, including Dick in the picture, and began a countdown on his fingers. He pointed and the devil began.

“Hello there, we interrupt your normal broadcast to bring a special message to the Justice League.”

Dick tuned out what Logarithm was saying, choosing instead to spend the time keeping Damian calm. Whatever was going to happen to him would happen, but he refused to let Damian get in trouble. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man walking behind him with a coil of something. It looked like rope, but he was already tied up.

Damian saw it too, and indicated to it with his eyes, but Dick continued to ignore it. At least, he ignored it until he heard a loud crack behind him. Keeping his eyes locked on Damian, now a little more out of fear than keeping the smaller boy silent, Dick turned his attention back to Logarithm.

“-your choice, of course.” The man was saying. “But to prove we’re serious,” The whip came down hard on Dick’s bare back. He gasped and bit his lip at the sudden flaming pain in his back, but kept his focus on his little brother. He was able to keep his eyes open and his gaze calm, even as the pain leaked in, for the first four strikes. After that, his vision started to tunnel, and it was all he could do to keep Damian in his sights. He heard someone screaming. He hoped it wasn’t him.

At some point, there were no more additions to his pain. Someone covered his mouth and he heard a gunshot. He jerked his eyes open, but Damian was fine, although scared. There was a pause, and then he was let down from the scaffolding. Someone said something to him and slapped him on the back; there was another strangled scream and chuckles. People were talking, but all Dick cared to pay attention to was that his brother was now directly in front of him. He wrapped his arms around the tiny boy and passed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing she saw was whiteness, whiteness stretching in all directions. It was blank, scary, wrong. She got to her feet and started moving in search of color. She felt a tug in a seemingly random direction and decided to follow it. She was for a bit before spotting a small dot. A dark splotch speckled with streaks of white lay on the very edge of her vision. After another couple minutes of walking, she noticed the splotch was moving, stumbling really, towards her as well. One more minute and she was able to make out features and stopped shot.

“Richard,” Artemis breathed, and then sprinted towards him, sinking to her knees, and dragging him into her arms. “Richard,” she repeated, louder in relief.

“Art-Artemis?” He asked. She felt the boy tense and then fiercely return the hug. “Artemis! Am I dead?”

“No!” She said sharply, pulling him back to study him closely.

“But, it’s all blank. This is my King’s Cross Scene, right? Does that mean you’re dead too and you get to be Dumbledore?”

“No.” She tried to say, but he was on a roll now. He looked around.

“Isn’t there supposed to be scenery forming now that I know where I am? I don’t really want to die. Can I get on the train to go back home instead of on? Will it teleport me home?”

“Richard! You’re not dead. You can’t be dead! I don’t believe you’re dead.” She brushed her finger across his face where there was a small bit of dirt. He was incredibly pale, not helping her case, almost blending in with the background, especially since he was wearing white pants and no shirt. Even his hair was streaked with white, although the black was definitely still there. He was thin, much thinner than she had seen him last, and she could feel that most of the loss was muscle. “What happened to you?” She asked softly.

“What happened to me?” he laughed hollowly. “A lot happened to me, but what about you? Did you get away? They didn’t get you too, did they? Wally wouldn’t survive with both of us gone.”

“No. No, they didn’t get me. I’m so sorry, Richard. I should have tried harder. I should have protected you.”

“It’s not your fault, Arty. I don’t blame you, and you shouldn’t blame yourself. And, please, call me Dick. I prefer the name Dick.”

Artemis hugged him again. She heard a slight gasp she had not caught the first time. She pulled back and studied him once more. “What happened? Did I hurt you?”

“I don’t-No, it wasn’t you. It…it hurts. Arty, I want to go home. Please, take me home.” God, he looked broken, completely and totally broken.

“We’re going to find you.” She reassured her friend. “Is there anything you can tell me that might help?”

“I-we tried to get everyone out not too long ago. Maybe…maybe a few weeks ago. A…a lot of kids made it out, but I don’t know how many they caught. If you see a big group of kids with number tattoos on their arms, like this one,” he held up his arm and Artemis resisted the urge to start cursing upon seeing 169 written in thick, black print on his forearm. “They can help. They came from here. They might have made it pretty far, but they can probably lead you back here.” Dick was fidgeting. Artemis smoothed his arms down to stop it.

“Are you okay?” She asked. “You’re hurt, on your back I reckon, so obviously not physically, but are you okay mentally.”

“I…No… No, I’m not okay at all. Arty, I’m scared. I made him mad when we helped people escape and now I’m always hurt and he’s targeting me specifically, and he’s using Dami and it’s not okay. I’m not okay.”

“Woah. Slow down, Rob. Who’s targeting you and who is Dami?” He stared at her wide-eyed. “Richard?”

“Did you just call me Rob?” He asked softly.

“Huh? Oh! I figured it out after you did not show up at the cave for a while when you said you would that first weekend. Wally was a bit too concerned, too involved in your missing person’s case for someone who had never met you before. I eventually put two and two together, especially when Jason started going out a bit as Robin to try to keep people from figuring out your identities.”

“Contingency Plan Jaybird? Is he okay?”

“Yeah. He’s fine. He’s doing a great job, too.”

“Of course he is. He’s my brother. He’s Jason. Just like Dami’s my brother.”

“Who’s Dami?”

“Oh, Damian’s Bruce’s son. He’s with me. He’s adorable.” Artemis noticed that when she got him on the topic of his brothers, Dick relaxed a bit. “Artemis, did you laugh when you found out?”

“Laugh?” She asked. “Why would I… Oh yeah! The picture. I did, when I remembered. For a little bit, hysterically, but then I cried because you were gone. For hours. It sort of added a new dimension of failure to the whole thing. I couldn’t protect you, Dick. And the fact that it was, well, you added a new layer. I should’ve been able to protect you. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“It’s not your fault, Arty. You tried. You warned me about something, I think.” He wrinkled his nose trying to remember what that thing was. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I was afraid of what they did to you, if they had taken you too.”

“They probably thought I wasn’t worth the effort. I kept fighting, after you passed out. I tried to get you back.”

“See. You did your best. I couldn’t really ask for more. I wasn’t exactly able to escape on my own, not for lack of trying.”

“Hey, do you hear someone calling my name?” Artemis asked, as she heard a faint echo of her name.

“No.”

“I swear I hear it. It sounds like Zantanna.”

“Maybe she’s trying to wake you up?”

“She can’t! I’m not done talking to you!” She pulled him into a fierce hug, trying to hold on as something started tugging her away.

“OW! Artemis, if she’s trying to wake you up, you have to wake up! I can’t go with you. I’m not really here and neither are you. Please find me soon. You won’t have to let go then.” She loosened the hold and looked into his tear filled eyes. “You need to let go now. Please keep looking for me.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but found she couldn’t as she was torn away from Dick.

“Artemis!” Zantanna shouted in her ear. “Artemis! You have to wake up. There’s a video. It has Richard!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick woke up to a small hand on his cheek and a numbing pain in his back. He opened his eyes to see Damian’s face directly in front of him. Instead of jerking back, like he might have had it been anyone else, Dick started searching his brother’s face for information. Damian was shaking slightly, but was unharmed. He had tear tracks down his face, indicating that he had gone so far as to cry lately, an odd move on Damian’s part.

“ _It’s-”_ Dick started in Romanian in a strained voice, but interrupted himself with a cough. Damian’s eyebrow furrowed. _“It’ll be okay, Dami. I’m fine. What-”_ he coughed again. _“What happened?”_

“They tied you up, and they hit you with the rope coil, and you screamed a lot. The whole time, Logarithm was talking to the camera. He said something about killing kids. Then, Logarithm had a gun, and put it to your head. They covered your mouth, and lifted the gun, and shot the wall behind you. I don’t think you were on camera then. He said something like ‘oh well, there’s more where he came from,’ and smiled. Then the guy with the camera said they were done. He replayed the tape, and he said ‘that’ll do.’ They let me go, and cut you down. I grabbed Batkitty and ran over. You passed out on me and they stuck you with a needle. Then, they put some stuff on your back, and took us outside, and put you in the trunk. You wouldn’t let go of me, so I came back here too.” Damian explained in Arabic, another sign of his fear. Damian also still had Dick’s goggles on his head. Dick nodded, and in looking around his brother’s head, saw that his arms were still around the kid. Now that Damian had mentioned it, he could hear the gentle hum of an engine and the sound of the road passing below them.

“How long have we been driving?”

“I don’t know. I fell asleep.” Damian blushed, slightly embarrassed. “We changed cars once. I think we’re almost back.”

Dick nodded. The two settled in. Before long, the car pulled to a stop. Dick pulled Damian closer, and prepared to get out. His shoes were still gone, but that didn’t matter in the smooth halls of their prison anyhow. He didn’t want his shirt back. They could hear people talking outside the trunk.

Soon enough, the trunk opened, and a couple of the bluemen helped them out. Dick fought a sudden wave of dizziness. One of the bluemen looked at Damian as if wanting to take him, but Damian’s mini Batglare quickly turned him away. He held his brother’s pant leg, using him for balance. They were led to an examination room, similar to the one they had used for the initial examinations. Dick set Damian down on a chair, and laid stomach down on the table.

While the nurses stitched up Dick’s back, he thought about the repercussions of the video that had just been filmed. It would give the League a lead, but would also serve as a warning. Dick had no doubt that the men would not hesitate to shoot him if it came to it. After all, they weren’t supposed to hurt the kids, and they had almost shot him on TV. Although, that was also likely a purposeful miss, to convince the League he was dead. Additional motivation to stop searching.

He remembered the dream, but it was just that, a dream. Well it would be nice for Artemis to have gotten all that information he had given her, a dream was a wish, not reality. It wasn’t like he was a telepath or anything. Besides, M’gann only had a range of a few miles. Even if he was a telepath, Artemis was on the other side of the world. There was no way it was real.

What could the video tell them? Dick hadn’t bothered to try to send them a message, not knowing where he was or anything he could communicate to them besides that he was alive. Maybe they could figure out that there was someone else there, and they would probably see the number on his arm, but no location or other information. Even if they found where it had been filmed, their main interests would be long gone by the time the video aired.

Plus, there would be the media backlash. People would want them to keep searching and doubling their efforts, and other people would blame them for the beating and beg them to stop searching. Dick bet the Justice League would want to keep looking, but his ‘death’ may be enough fuel to fight them off. They’d find a way.

The bluemen finished up with his back, and helped him up.

“Don’t sleep on your back for a few weeks. We’ll include pain pills with your meals. Take them. Don’t cover your back for a few days. You’ll get a new shirt then.”

Dick nodded, and picked up Damian, wincing at the slight pain in his back, numbed by the medicine flowing through his body. One of the bluemen flashed them a look of pity and regret as he accompanied them back to their room.

Alex leapt to his feet when they entered. He waited until they were inside, the blueman had left, and the door was locked before launching into a series of questions.

“What happened? Where were you? I heard a rumor you left the building and they were planning to use you for a warning? Where did you go? Are you hurt? Either of you? Did you see anyone who could help? Where’s your shirt? Did they give you lunch?”

“Alex!” He stopped, and looked at Dick expectedly. “They needed us for some sort of warning video. They took us to a warehouse, and made a film of some guy whipping me, I think. Logarithm said a bunch of stuff to the Justice League. Damian would have a better account, right Dami?”

Damian nodded, and Dick set him down on his chair placing Batkitty on Damian’s bed, while Damian explained things to Alex. Alex glanced at Dick at different times during the story, at his back in particular.

“You can stop looking at me. I’ve had worse than this.” He told Alex.

“What? How?”

 _“It’s complicated.”_ Dick replied thinking of his time spent with Two-Face and Joker, and a couple fairly violent kidnappings. He studied the ground. _“I mean, Tati has always been able to find me before now, but the actual whipping will only hurt for a little bit in comparison to the experiments and some other kidnappings I’ve experienced in the past.”_ He rubbed his tattoo. _“At least the League will know to look for these now.”_ He held up his arm.

Before they could say anything further, they heard the light buzzer for lights out. An extra lock slid over the door. Dick swooped up Damian and dropped the kid on Damian’s bed, just as the lights clicked out.

“Guess they’re not feeding us today.” Dick whispered. “Good night guys.”

 _“Good night.”_ Alex replied, as Damian slipped back onto Dick’s bed and burrowed under his arms, having grabbed Batkitty from his bed. He felt Dick’s gaze upon him.

“I am simply making sure that you have someone to provide miniscule amounts of comfort after your day.” Damian said. Dick smiled and tugged the boy closer like a teddy bear. 


	25. Don't Give Up

Chapter 22 Don’t Give Up

Dick winced lightly as he lifted his little brother into the air in order to carry him to class. The bluemen waited by the door in order to escort them. The constant surveillance grated on his nerves and made him reminisce for Bruce’s caring paranoia. While Bruce’s surveillance at least screamed “I’m making sure you’re safe because I care!” these psychos’ surveillance basically shouted “YOU SHALL NOT PASS” like Gandalf to the demon in the mountain.

Dick, Damian, and Alex left their room escorted by two bluemen. A couple other ‘subjects’ were also moving through the hallway, and sent Dick a look of pity. He still hadn’t been given a new shirt. His scarred and stitched back was still oozing blood occasionally even three days later. It acted as a reminder to the others of what could have happened or what could happen to them.

To the kids’ surprise, instead of being led to class, they were led to a slightly larger room than usual where a TV had been set up and connected to power. The non- special order kids were already inside as the special order kids were led in a few at a time. Dick carried Damian to the back-right of the room, so as to reduce people staring at him. Alex followed.

Ten minutes later, the room was filled, and people were whispering to their neighbors, trying to figure out what was going on.

“What do you think it is, Dick?” A small kid named Derek asked, poking Dick in the arm. Most of the kids knew who he was now and that he had been one of the leading brains behind the attempted mass escape. It had gained him a massive amount of respect that he was not entirely sure how to deal with currently. Kids liked to come to him for comfort and advice as well, especially since he could speak so many languages. Alex was convinced they saw Dick as their hero.

Dick shrugged at Derek’s question. The bluemen had only brought them to this room once before in Dick’s time here, about two months ago. That time, they had forced the kids to watch a documentary about owls. Alex had later found out, and passed around the prison, that the documentary had been a distraction so that the majority of the bluemen, all the teachers, and the doctors could have a massive meeting.

As the volume continued to rise, the door opened and Logarithm entered. Dick spotted him, and instantly tensed. Damian looked where he was looking, and, in a very- un- Damian move, gave a little squeak, and tightened his grip on his brother so that he was almost choking him. Their corner of the room heard him, looked, and fell silent. The rest of the room soon followed. All eyes turned in the direction of the demon.

“Ah, I see I have received the proper reaction. Now, brats, it is story time. 169, where are you?” Dick stiffened as the man spotted him. “Ah. There you are. Now, why don’t you come join us up front? Put the little tyke down.”

Damian shook his head burying himself further into his brother. “ _Don’t go, please!”_

_“I have to. He’ll hurt you otherwise.”_

_“I don’t care!”_

_“I got him. Don’t worry.”_ Alex whispered to Dick, gently reaching for Damian.

 _“Please. Go with Alex.”_ Dick reluctantly detangled Damian from himself and handed him over. He turned to face the front.

“That’s it. Come on now. Hurry up, brat.” Shaking, Dick slowly and carefully made his way to the front of the room. There were a few audible gasps and hushed whispers as Dick passed a few people who had yet to see his back, even as he tried to hide it from them. He reached the front, and faced the tall man.

Logarithm grasped Dick’s shoulders and turned him so that he was standing next to the TV with his back was in full view of the captive audience. Logarithm grinned at the looks of horror in front of him. “My dear friend 169 here and little 214 over there helped me put together a little video a few days ago. Wave, 214.” Damian wilted away from the attention that now turned to him. “Come on, wave.” The slight warning in his tone was enough for Dick to indicate that Damian should do what he said. He gave a quick little wave. “Good little tyke.

“Anyhow, 169 and 214 helped me to send a video to the Justice League of America, who, until now, had been fairly keen on finding 169 here. This was their response.” Logarithm shoved Dick to the ground so that he could see as well, and then turned the TV on. He put a tape in the VCR, and pressed play.

The video opened with Vicki Vale, a distraught- but trying to hide it- Superman, and a stoic Superboy. Hey, they were getting along. It was a miracle! Was that due to him? A video image of Dick and Logarithm was paused in the background. There was also a date: April 20th, 2013. Had he been gone that long? Wait, that meant he was 14 now… And he hadn’t even known…

“And we’re back. Following the disturbing video that has spread across the Internet after hijacking media stations around the globe two days ago in the early morning, we have Superman and Superboy here to discuss the Justice League’s response. But first, the network finds it necessary to replay the video.” Dick swore he saw small finger- sized indents being made in Superboy’s chair. The video began to play.

Watching from the sidelines, as Logarithm made his demands and Dick was whipped, it did look like a fairly convincing video to get the Justice League to stop looking. Dick noticed, to his surprise, that he had noticeable streaks of white in his hair. Weird. He did look like a skunk. Alex hadn’t been lying about that.

Logarithm demanded that the Justice League stop searching for the missing kids or Dick would not be the only one to suffer. The whole room shuddered at that. Dick felt a sharp twinge on his back when watching the men whip him. Oh…. So those had been his screams, he thought shrinking in slightly. He could feel the pity being directed at him, especially from the older kids. A lot of the younger kids were crying. Dick swore he could hear Dami whimpering, but he was too scared to turn around and look as Logarithm, the one currently in the room, smiled triumphantly at him.

Near the end of the video, the camera was focused in on Logarithm, cutting Dick from the camera. There was a gunshot, and the video ended with the line “Oh well, there’s more where he came from. Stop the search, Justice League, or else.”

Vicki Vale returned to the scene. Well, that solved the mystery of if there were finger- sized indents. Superboy had ripped large chunks off of his chair arms. He looked furious! Did Connor, and the rest of the team, know by now that Dick was Robin? Artemis had said so in his dream a few days ago, but that was a dream, so not real. It would doubly explain the reaction. Superman gently laid an arm on his shoulder to calm him down. Vicki looked taken aback by his fury.

“Sorry. Superboy obviously doesn’t like to see people get hurt. Neither of us do. That’s why we’re heroes.”

“What’s the Justice League’s response to this video?” There was dead silence in the room, as the kids in question waited for the response.

“Unfortunately, not good. The League is furious, but we have no trace from where the video came. We held a vote late last night, and the majority argued that it would be better if the Justice League acquiesced with the demands and handed the public search over to the police departments and United Nations. This is an international incident and will not be ignored. However, as the people have been apt to remind us the past couple days, the Justice League cannot openly search without potentially causing harm to the missing. It is with great regret that I must announce that the _Justice League_ will not be continuing the search for the time being.” They were giving up on him? Where was League loyalty when you needed it?

Superboy was glaring at the ground, but there was something else in his expression. He looked up at Vicki, and Dick recognized the expression instantly. Determination. OH! He thought back over Superman’s exact wording. The _Justice League_ would not be searching, but that didn’t mean Young Justice or individual heroes wouldn’t, and he could guess who would be one hundred percent behind them offering all their support.

“That’s…unfortunate.” Vicki said. The station went to commercial. Logarithm stopped the video. A good portion of the room was crying.

“So, as you can see, the magnificent Justice League of America has given up on the missing kids; that’d be you.”

“No, they haven’t.” Dick interrupted, before he realized what he was doing. Logarithm paused, and regarded Dick with a mix between annoyance and anger.

“Oh. And what makes you figure that?”

Dick swallowed. He was playing with fire here, but he couldn’t let these kids give up hope. It’s all they had left. He stood to face the crowd. “The Justice League does not just give up on people,” especially if it was one of their own, but Dick wasn’t about to admit that. “You saw Superboy. He was ripping chunks out of his chair because of what was happening in that video. Did he look like he was giving up? They might have said they were giving up, but that doesn’t mean that they are. Logarithm,” Dick gestured to the man in question. Logarithm bristled, realizing Dick meant him. “Told them that we would get hurt if they didn’t stop, so of course the Justice League said they were stopping. But that doesn’t mean anything. It’s a blank statement that fulfills its purpose. Even if they were giving up though, they just said that the police were taking over and the United Nations is looking too. That’s still plenty of people looking for us, so don’t lose hope.”

“Finished?” Logarithm asked. Dick turned back to him, and gave a firm, determined nod. In a flash, Logarithm ripped the goggles off his head, tossed them aside, and smacked Dick as hard as he could. Dick toppled over, hand flying to his cheek, and accidentally landed half on another kid, who quickly pushed him off and moved away. “Particulate little brat. Time I teach you another lesson. Take him to Detention Room 4.” Logarithm motioned to two bluemen in the back. They marched forward and pulled Dick up. Once he was back on his feet, the bluemen twisted his arms behind his back and forced him out of the room. “Wait just a moment.” He stopped them in the doorway. He indicated to another blueman. “Grab the little one, too.”

“No!” Dick and Alex both said. The blueman ripped Damian out of Alex’s arms and caught up to the two bluemen who were holding Dick. The one on Dick’s right handed Dick over fully to the one on his left and took Damian. They left.

“Despite what he says, no one will be finding you here. We have remained hidden from the United Nations for years; they will not come to your rescue. As for the Justice League, they have ceased all search efforts. There will be no escape.” He swept out of the room, trench coat swirling dramatically like a cape. He had a brat to discipline.


	26. Finally A Solid Lead

Chapter 23 Finally A Solid Lead

“Does anyone else notice that he keeps looking at the same spot?” Kid Flash asked, as the video that recently made the news finished again. He and Aqualad had hopped on a train to the nearest zeta tube the second they had seen it, but it still took them a while to get back. They had to switch trains twice and the nearest zeta tube was a thirty minute cab ride from the nearest train station. They were planning to discuss with Batman about putting more zeta tubes into Europe.

“Yeah, it’s kind of weird. It’s like he doesn’t truly notice or care what’s happening to him until the fifth strike.” Rocket replied.

“When he starts screaming,” Miss Martian said with a shudder. There was a crack as the _metal_ bar Superboy was holding split down the middle. All eyes drew to him.

“Sorry.” They returned their gaze to the video.

“Was he doing that, looking at only one point, in the first video?” Rocket asked.

“No,” Kid Flash said. “His eyes were flitting all over the place, but tended to focus on three points. Batman thinks that he was trying to tell us how many kidnappers there were.”

“So, why change his viewpoint now?”

“His expression, too.” Artemis pointed out. “Go back a bit. There! Freeze Frame.” They stared at it for a moment. “It’s almost… reassuring, but he’s not trying to reassure us, or he’d be looking at the camera. R2D2, what do you think?”

Blue Jay, Robin, Jr.’s current alias, fidgeted in the seat next to her. He had changed his alias three times in the past two months after Batman had finally admitted that Robin wasn’t coming back any time soon. After a lot of arguing where Batman tried to convince him to leave the field completely so he’d be safe, Jason was finally allowed to continue, taking up his own identity. The team had simply decided to call him R2D2 or RJ unless he settled for something permanently. Both had already evolved as valid nicknames courtesy of Kid Flash, so the team found it pretty easy to stick to, and much easier to remember than trying to figure out which alias he was on.

“I think you’re right. It does look kind of reassuring. Maybe there’s someone else there? That he’s trying to keep calm. He’d give me the same face when I had nightmares…and that’s the face he makes when he’s hurt and doesn’t want anyone to know.” Blue Jay muttered the last line, but it was still audible to the rest of the room. The team winced at the blatant reminder that this was one of their own and he was hurt.

Zatanna took a deep breath. “Do you think that’s who they shot? We know they didn’t shoot Richard.” She contributed to the analysis.

“When I said they didn’t shoot Richard, it’s because they didn’t shoot anyone. The sound of a bullet hitting flesh and concrete is different at the super hearing level. It hit concrete.” Superboy divulged, thinking back to his recent super hearing lessons and patrol with Superman.

“They also would have shot him on camera if they were going to shoot him for real.” Kid Flash said. “Shooting him off camera doesn’t have the same yield. Shooting him on camera would have been far more effective.”

“Can we stop talking about Dick being shot? Please?” Blue Jay begged. “He didn’t get shot. Let’s leave it at that.”

“But we need to figure out the motive for Bonanza not shooting him. He’s a different guy than the one in the last video. We need to figure out a rough idea of what’s happened in the past few months if we’re going to find him.” Kid Flash said. “Sorry, RJ” Blue Jay fidgeted again.

“Back to the matter of there being another kid. Anyone could work to make him cooperate, if they threatened the other person. Dick’s passionate enough that he won’t let anyone be hurt because of him. But reassuring? And constantly looking back even when he’s in pain? I think he cares a lot about the other kid, maybe even feels responsible for him or her. Like a younger sibling, like Jason. Maybe he’s bonded with the kid in the past few months.” Everyone was staring at Artemis when she finished. She blushed and grabbed the first excuse she could come up with. “What? I’m taking AP Psych this year.”

She did not want to confirm another part of the dream had been true. The injuries to Dick’s back and the hair were already prominent. She needed to find a way to find out if the tattoo was there, and, if it was, suggest that some kids might have escaped and they could find them to lead them back. It was creeping her out how much of her dream, which did not seem like such a dream, was actually true. Had she actually been speaking to Dick in the dream? If so, could she repeat the experience? What if she was talking to a ghost? What if she wasn’t? Could they use a similar experience to track him?

“There is that possibility. Red Bond, can you get a reflection of the other person? If there is one.”

“Yes, Aqualad. But I’m going by Blue Jay now.” Blue Jay pulled out his holocomputer and got to work isolating the frames, searching for anything reflective. He wasn’t nearly as good or as fast as his older brother, but he could still do it.

“I see. I will be sure to remember that.”

“Aqualad, did you and Kid Flash have any luck on the search in France?” Miss Martian asked.

“We have been keeping Batman updated, but I assume he has not seen fit to share all we have found with you?” The team nodded.

“Well, he has told us a little, but not much. He said you had a lead?” M’gann said.

“We do have a small one. Unfortunately, we had no luck in France with the _CS Coyote_ , but we believe we have another avenue. Have you done a frame by frame yet, in case Richard slipped in a message?”

“No, we were planning to do that next, after analyzing the overall picture. We don’t think he sent a message though.” Artemis replied. No, the message was probably sent through the dream, although how was worth asking. Aqualad nodded. There was silence for a minute.

“There!” Blue Jay shouted suddenly. He pulled up the picture on the big screen, and cropped and enlarged an image of a reflection that briefly appeared when the gun came into view. They could make out a tiny, blurry figure, mostly white with a dark spot at the top. Artemis’s heart sank. That had to be Damian.

“Can you enhance it?” Aqualad asked.

“Working on it,” Blue Jay replied while typing. The image refreshed a few times, becoming slightly clearer each time it returned to view. “That’s the best I can do. Batman might be able to enhance it more.” He said finally.

They looked at the picture, which had clarified into a little boy with a large hand over his mouth. He was clothed mostly in white, and had black hair and pale skin. They couldn’t make out the expression in his eyes, but they looked to be a bluish-green color. Of course, that could be a trick of the camera.

“He looks familiar.” Kid Flash said.

“Really familiar.” Blue Jay added. He did something fancy on his holocomputer, and pulled up a couple images. One was of a young Dick Grayson. Another was of a young Bruce Wayne. “I think he’s either another missing kid or related to one of these people. Wait, one second.” He added a picture of a young Clark Kent, who was wearing an extremely dorky outfit. Superboy smiled. “Sorry, one of these people. Don’t tell Superman I showed you this picture. We’ve been using it as blackmail.”

“Hang on a second.” Zatanna said. “Put the picture of the kid in the reflection next to the one of Bruce Wayne.” Blue Jay did so. “They look a lot alike.” Artemis shifted uncomfortably.

“Maybe they made a clone of him?” Miss Martian suggested.

“People we know have had a tendency to get cloned or be clones.” Rocket said, giving Superboy a soft smile. He snorted.

“Or we could consider the fact that Bruce Wayne is a notable playboy,” Artemis said. “We cannot ignore the possibility that he was out with someone and accidentally made a baby he does not know about. The kid could be his son.” They all stared at the two pictures some more, and Blue Jay pulled down the other ones to enlarge the two they were examining. There was no denying the similarities between the two.

“Perhaps, we should discuss the matter with Batman.” Aqualad said, finally.

“Yeah, perhaps.” Blue Jay said.

“Has anyone done a trace on the video yet? Figured out where it originated from?” The team froze, and all eyes turned to Blue Jay, questioning if he’d done it yet.

Blue Jay looked up from his holocomputer, which he had been typing on since he got there. “Batman tried it. No luck. We have another try going on the Batcomputer currently, as well as one focusing on that anklet. He’s working on finding the original broadcast and isolating the anklet signal from it. We think it might be a tracker because they probably didn’t want to lose him if they didn’t shoot him on camera. Batman says it’s further evidence they didn’t shoot him because no one wastes technology on a dead kid. If we can isolate the anklet signal, we can trace it. It’s taking time though. He has me working on it while I’m here.” The wrist computer suddenly flashed with a lot of red. “Crap.” He rushed to fix the error.

“So, what do we have so far?” Artemis started. “A kid who looks a bit like Bruce Wayne and who Dick obviously cares for, a psycho who has yet to be identified that we are calling Bonanza, who is different from the guy in the first ransom video, a potential trace from the anklet if you can isolate it, and a lot of blood, is that it?”

“There’s also the threats he made. He made it sound like there were a lot more kids than just Dick and the kid. Maybe we’re looking for an organization.”

“Hey, what’s that on his arm?” Kid Flash asked, looking up at the still of Dick they still had up on a screen. The team studied it, narrowing their eyes to see it better.

“It looks like, a blemish, or ink. A tattoo, maybe?” Zatanna said. “R2D2, can you enlarge it?”

“Give me a second,” He enlarged and enhanced the spot they were looking at.

“It’s a number.” Miss Martian said in horrid fascination.

“169…” Superboy said.

“Holy crap, does that mean they have 168 more kids?” Artemis exclaimed, whirling with the further confirmation that the dream was a little more not a dream at all. Even the number was the same! She really needed to try to have another one to get answers to all these questions. Artemis decided she would tell the team if she had a second one. She might still be imagining it, after all.

“At least.” Aqualad stated, dumbstruck. “It has been five and a half months since Richard disappeared. They could have gained many more in that time.”

“Let’s hope there are at least 169 kids… If there’s not, we can only guess what happened to the others.” Rocket said.

“What happened to the other guy? The one in the first video. He looked like he was in charge then.” Zatanna asked.

“Could they be the same person in different disguises?” Aqualad asked.

“Huh. R2D2, can you pull up a picture of him?” Zatanna demanded of their frenzied replacement hacker.

“One second,” he growled. He quickly pulled up a picture of the guy from the first video and switched back to the isolation program. This was hard. How did Dick do it so easily?

“Different heights and builds.” Artemis said, after a second. “Unless the jerk grew four inches in the past few months and aged a few years, as well as changing his voice, these are two different guys.”

“But why? Why change spokesmen? If this is an organization with so many kids, wouldn’t they want to keep the person who people see the same?” Zatanna pressed.

“Maybe they want to throw people off their tracks. If we had a second video of the same guy, we might have a few more leads to find that guy, who is probably staying off the grid, right now.”

“Maybe they sold Richard?” Superboy suggested. He immediately faced an entire room of glares. “What? It is a valid possibility. The person who initially did the ransom could be the collector of sorts, finding kids to kidnap and selling them to the guy in this video. Or this guy could be his boss.”

“While that is a valid argument that must not be ruled out, the leads we have found so far do not point in that direction.”

“What did you find in France, Aqualad? Did you find the kids from the boat?”

“Yeah, Kaldur! Report.”

“I am afraid we did not find the kids. All trails had gone cold by the time we reached France due to the massive disconnect of time between when the _C. S. Coyote_ arrived in France and when it arrived in Rhode Island. The shipyard only keeps surveillance from the previous two months, and we missed the tapes by three days.

“We kept an eye on the harbor, and had the security guards at the dock tell us if any similar vehicles appeared, but none did. I suspect that they stopped using that port when they learned of the Justice League’s involvement from a sentry at the shipyard in Savannah, Georgia. We have set sentries at other ports on the European coasts, but we have yet to receive any tips.

“On another note, we discovered an incident in late- November near the Austrian- German border. A few, previously missing children ran into a small town calling for the police to help. The police found a bus with a flat tire, three seriously injured kids— two of whom died from their injuries—and the corpse of an adult male. They also, later, found a small girl hiding under the bus. The four uninjured kids were returned home, and we arrived just as the last child, Anna, was waking up.

“The story we’ve heard was that a group armed men were transporting a busload of about twenty kidnapped children somewhere unknown coming from the Middle East through Turkey. The bus got a flat and pulled over, and one of the children made a run for it. A few of the men went after him and managed to recapture him, although not easily. The three children who managed to reach the town reported that they had made a break while the guards were distracted with the first kid along with about six other kids. The guards fired at them, and that’s how two died. The young girl under the bus reported that she heard a gunshot in the woods, and then two men came back with a small, unconscious boy with dark hair who was maybe four. They loaded the rest of the kids into three black vans, but put the smaller boy, who the police believe was the one that first ran, into an airtight box with a “weird mask”, possibly an oxygen mask, over his face, before placing the box in the van.

“Then, they left. The police were able to trace, and find, two black vans, but they were abandoned. They likely changed vehicles. The police were going through street security tapes from around that time to try to find the bus to find who was on the bus as well as the vans and any cars big enough to hold the remaining kids they might have traded with near where the vans were found, but it was slow going. We joined them on that, trying to help speed up the process.”

Kid Flash picked up the debriefing. “That’s around the time we saw the video. We left the police on the case and came back to regroup and see if we could get one or two new leads, stronger ones hopefully. Did you guys come up with any theories while we were traveling?”

“Is it-?” Artemis started. “Is it possible that some of the kids escaped from where they’re keeping them? If we look for the tattoos, we might be able to find them. Then we’d just have to convince them to lead us back.”

“That is not a bad idea. But we would not know where to start searching. The best we could do is contact the emissaries and see if anyone has come to them with the tattoo. However, they might not do that because the Justice League is not searching per the risk, and they don’t want to risk the kids.” Aqualad said.

“So, we tell them we’re not the Justice League! We’re acting on our own. We can’t give up on those kids!” Miss Martian said.

“Especially not Dick.” Kid Flash said. “He would never give up on us. It’s up to us to return that favor.”

“Alright. We should split up and contact as many as we can in person. Superboy, take the Super Cycle, Rocket, and Blue Jay, provided his father is alright with it, and go to the emissaries in Portugal, Italy, and Spain. Miss Martian, take the Bioship, Artemis and Zantanna and go to the emissaries in Ireland, the United Kingdom, France, Luxembourg, and the Netherlands. Kid Flash and I will go to Belgium, Germany, Austria, Poland, and the Czech Republic since we were already in contact with emissaries in Germany and Austria. Kid Flash and I will contact Batman and Red Arrow and see if they will join us or contact additional emissaries. They will let you know if they are joining your group or taking one of your countries. We will meet in Geneva, Switzerland in one week exactly. Understood?”

“Yes, Aqualad.”

“Then go.” 


	27. Meow?

_Romani_ :)

Chapter 24: Meow?

This day really sucked. Damian wished his brother hadn't opened his big mouth. He loved that Dick was a hero and all, but there were times to be a hero and times to not be a hero. It would have been better for Dick not to have been a hero this time. Maybe then, Damian's back wouldn't sting and they might be back in their room or with the other kids right now. Idiot brother.

Granted, besides the large amount of pain radiating through Damian's body, the burn was not the worst thing that could have happened. Yes, it hurt a lot and Logarithm had probably not been looking for a morale boost with his choice of hot metal thing, but it wasn't so bad. Damian thought that it would be the one injury that might not cause Tati to try to break every bone in their tormentor's body. It was shaped like a bat after all. And Tati liked Bats, right? Why else would he be Batman. Especially since Dick swore he wasn't a vampire. Not drinking blood didn't necessarily mean not a vampire. He could be a vegan vampire...

Damian grumbled as the blueman carrying him set him down in a chair in a room he didn't recognize. It was one of the ankle chain chairs that Damian didn't really fit in. He always had to sit on the edge of the chair and stretch his ankle out. There was a special chair in his classroom that had a binding around Damian's waist height. It still wasn't comfortable, but he could at least sit normally with it. They obviously hadn't thought to bring it down here.

"Should we really be doing this now?" One of the bluemen nearby spoke up to another. Damian tensed. "He'll be distracted by the pain in his back. It could mess up Phase 3."

The second one snorted. "Once we get the shock level up for the portal, he won't be focused on his back anymore. It's no different than the other times he has stressed out before we started. The stress is just in a different way. Besides, we already waited a few days. We're behind schedule."

The first blueman shook his head. "Only two other subjects have made it this far before and neither made it much farther. That should be enough reason to take it slowly and carefully."

"Yeah. It's the only reason Logarithm hasn't killed the kid yet. Don't push his luck. Our chances of getting another kid with the same specifications are near impossible."

Damian looked up to regard his older brother. They had locked the young teen into some metal contraption. The tracker anklet was off and he was spread out like a string pulled taut, probably pulling the wounds on his back uncomfortably. He looked suitably freaked out as well, although he seemed to be fighting to keep himself calm. The two boys locked eyes. To Damian's surprise, Dick's eyes were filled with no small amounts of agony and utter terror. Dick spent so much time comforting Damian lately that Damian had forgotten that his older brother was hurt and scared as well, way more hurt that Damian. Dick was good at hiding it. Seeing his brother scared sent shivers down Damian's spine. He wiped away the sudden wetness in his eyes.

"Meow." Damian tore his gaze away from his brother to search for the source of the sound.

"Kitty!" He shouted gleefully, spotting a small black and white kitten by a big, upright circle. A blueman was keeping it there. He lurched forward, but his trapped ankle caused him to topple pulling the chair down with him. He heard Dick snort. From his tangle, Damian glared up at the teen, who had a small smile on his face. That was better.

"Mew."

"Coordinates set. Subjects in place."

"Meow?"

There was a whirling sound and Damian briefly registered his brother's pain before his attention was to the upright circle where a colorful swirl of light was spinning into life by the kitten. The sound in the room reached a fever pitch and Damian clamped his hands over his ears. After about 30 seconds, he thought heard a "Go!" within the cacophony. The blueman picked up the hissing kitten, which was covering his ears with his paws as well, and threw him into the swirling light. The kitten disappeared instantly, and didn't come out the back.

The light persisted for about a minute, and then the bluemen shut it down. It swirled down to nothing. The hum died down, and Damian suddenly remembered his brother. Two bluemen were slowly disconnected the teen from the contraption and lowering him down. Damian noticed he was pale as a ghost. More of his hair seemed to have switched to white and was sticking up in all directions. Dick was breathing heavily and didn't seem aware of his surroundings. When the bluemen placed an arm under his injured back to lift him up, the teen didn't even wince, although he was twitching so Damian might have missed it. They set Dick down on a bed in the corner and strapped him down. As if that wasn't enough, they next strapped an oxygen mask around his mouth and nose, and put a heart monitor on his right pointer finger.

"Have a nurse look him over." The guy who seemed to be in charge said. "We'll find out from our allies tomorrow if the cat made it. I'd rather the subject didn't kick out on us just yet." Damian tried to get to his brother, but was hindered by the metal chair. It made a loud sound as it shifted. The weight pressed on his back, which was still not bandaged to allow the burn to cool down. He let out an involuntary yelp.

A blueman decided to be merciful. He lifted the chair and boy up, and carried them over to the corner. They left the boys allowed, figuring they couldn't go anywhere. The guy in charge started babbling to the rest of the blueman about how much of a success it probably was and there was a chance the portal would soon be stable enough for what they wanted to do. They would need to figure out why it worked, and they would need to make sure the subject got its medicine. Damian tuned them out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alex paced his room nervously as he waited for his two roommates to return. After they had left, the bluemen had corralled the kids and taken them to class a few at a time, making sure no one left the room when it was not their turn. The day had proceeded as normal, although it was easy to tell everyone was on edge. No one spoke at lunch, and no one answered questions unless forced to in class. Alex had been pulled aside for his experiment for about an hour following classes, and he had returned half an hour ago. The two boys still weren't back yet, although he hoped they would be back soon.

As the current oldest of the group, Alex felt responsible for the two younger boys in his room. Dick may have been Robin, and he certainly put on a brave face, but he was still only 13. Well, probably 14 by now but who knew for sure? It was hard to tell time in here. That 13 year old kid had been through the wringer in ways Robin had never been. At least Robin returned to Batman at the end of the day. Dick did not have that luxury currently. The isolation after Roy's death had destroyed what was left of Dick's fragile façade and he rarely smiled anymore, and when he did, it was mostly to Damian and rarely real. What's more? Logarithm refused to leave the boy alone, insisting on continue to torture him for his heroics.

Dick wasn't the only hero that day, but the kids hailed him up as the main one. Alex had made sure to slip truth into the rumor mill and confirm some of the rumors. Yes, Dick _had_ knocked out five bluemen on his own. Yes, he _had_ taken out the security and kept the doors open for as long as he could. No, he had _not_ killed one of the guards. No, he had _not_ sucked their blood. Alex was 95% sure Damian had started that one. Damian loved his vampire theories.

Alex personally felt that Logarithm had crossed the line when he had started attacking Damian to get to Dick, but there was nothing he could really do about it. He flopped down in the chair by his desk and sighed. He fiddled with Batkitty for a moment, and then put Dick's goggles on the toy and set them aside. He reached into the drawers and pulled out his journal of victims. He kept track of all the kids he could with it, but he knew it wasn't as thorough or complete as he would have liked. Still, he flipped through it, checking that it was up to date, and then hid it in the dresser once more.

Dick had downloaded some stuff onto a flash drive during the botched escape attempt and slipped it to Damian who'd given it to Alex. After much contemplation, he decided the best thing to do was hide the flash drive inside Batkitty. The bluemen wouldn't think to look for it there. He glanced at the door to check if Dick and Damian were coming back any time soon. Deciding it was unlikely; he grabbed the cat, slipped into the camera's blind spot and got to work.

Half an hour later, when Dick and Damian returned, Batkitty looked exactly the same except that the stitches were a bit newer and straighter. Alex quickly hid the needle when they entered, and rushed to meet them.

The first sign he had that something was seriously wrong was the fact that Dick was not carrying Damian. The second sign was that the bluemen were supporting both Dick and Damian. They lifted the two boys onto the bed and then left. Dick instantly passed out, a third sign of worry. Alex checked on him. He was still breathing, although the breath was labored.

"Alex?" Damian croaked.

"Damian? _Are you alright?"_ Alex asked.

"Noooo…" He moaned.

"What happened?"

"Well…"

_-Flashback-_

Two bluemen shoved Damian and Dick down the hallway from the TV room with a third acting as support in case one or both of them acted out. Dick was wincing as his arms were pressed harshly into the wounds on his back. The blueman was too strong for him to fight against. He could not more than twitch his wrists to try to get out of the hold, not for lack of trying. When they reached the end of the hallway where the elevator was, they stopped and the third blueman blindfolded the two boys before calling the elevator. They were led through several more corridors before the blindfold was removed and they were both tossed into a bright white room.

Too bright, it had been too bright, and as soon as the bluemen closed the door behind them, a loud buzzing filled the air, drowning out all other noise. Damian had stumbled his way over to his brother and curled himself into a tight embrace, closing his eyes and burrowing his head. They stayed that way for ages.

- _Current time_ -

" _Were you there all time? Why is there a bandage behind your chest?"_

" _I'm getting to that!"_

- _Return to Flashback_ -

After a really long time ( _No, Alex, I cannot be more…. more… right? I think that's the word. Or 'exact' maybe? You know what I mean.")_ , the bluemen came and dragged the boys out of the too bright, too white room and into another room nearby. Instead of tying them up to anything, the blueman had just held them firmly until Logarithm arrived.

The man had walked in considerably calmer than earlier, but Damian was suspicious about why. The scary man was a little too happy. He addressed the two captives.

"I finally picked a punishment for you two."

" _You mean that room wasn't the punishment?"_ Dick muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

" _Nothing._ Sorry, nothing, sir. I didn't say anything." Logarithm eyed Dick suspiciously for a moment as the teen cowered away.

"That's what I thought, brat." He sneered. "Now, I want an answer here, who's your favorite superhero?" Two incredulous stares answered him. "NOW!"

"Umm… Probably Ba-batman." Dick stammered. "Sir." He added.

"Hmm. Makes sense given that you're from Gotham. This should please you then. On your knees!" He snapped. Dick hesitated, but obeyed. Damian went to copy him as well, but a blueman held him up, and then spun him around so he was facing the blueman's chest. "Take his shirt off." The blueman's grip shifted to Damian's wrists as another pulled the boy's shirt off.

"What are you doing?" Dick asked.

"Why, giving him the punishment of course."

"What? No! Don't hurt him! Hasn't he been punished enough? Punish me instead! Ow!"

Logarithm snorted. "I told you we would hurt the kid if you didn't behave, but you didn't listen. However, since you asked so politely, I'll be sure to punish you as well." After the shirt was off, the grip was shifted to Damian's upper arms holding him in place. There was a searing pain on his back causing him to cry out, and then he blacked out from the pain.

A few minutes later, he jerked back into consciousness when he heard Dick scream as well, but try to cut it off. Damian whimpered as his back spasmed. He could sense his brother's eyes immediately focus their energy on him. Everything was really blurry.

_-End Flashback-_

" _And that's what happened."_

" _So, your back hurt but you don't know what did they."_

" _Yes."_

" _Huh. But, if they hurt your back, why is Dick sleepy? The pain cannot be bad, right?"_

" _Well, it wasn't, but they took us to place afterwards and put him through ow. He has not wake up."_

" _Your grammar sucks."_ Both boys turned to look at Dick, who had shifted so that his eyes were blocked from the light.

" _We're getting well though, yes?"_ Alex begged.

" _Dami, yes. You, not really. I'm tired. Long day. Leave me alone please."_ Damian sent Alex a proud smirk, clearly pleased he was better at something.

"Yeah. Yeah. Do you want me to teach you some art basics as a prize?"

"YEAH!"


	28. Once Upon a Time

Chapter 25: Once Upon a Time

"It was a dark night and the wind was howling through the streets and over the rooftops. Light, misty rain danced through the air and tickled faces as it went. Two figures, barely silhouettes hidden in the mist, were watching a building across the way, waiting to see if a gang would make their move."

"What's a silhouette?"

"It's like a shadow, basically an outline of a person."

"Oh. Okay. Can you just say shadow then?"

"Sure. The two figures were waiting, waiting, waiting, always waiting for something to happen. Suddenly, one, the larger shadow, shifted slightly. He had spotted some movement down below. The younger shadow followed his gaze and spotted three men, all dressed in warm, dark clothing, one with a beanie, one with a hood, and one with nothing on his head."

"Beanie?"

"A tight fitting hat. Good for cold weather. Tends to make your hair stand up when you take it off, though. They were looking around to be sure no one had followed them before entering the warehouse."

"Why is it always a warehouse? And how do you know they were looking to make sure no one followed them? They could have been checking for cats."

"Shhh. Listen to the story. So, they entered the warehouse?"

"They entered the warehouse and the shadows held a brief, silent conversation with each other. The smaller one was to keep an eye out for backup or people trying to leave. The larger shadow would follow them in and catch them in their crime. The smaller shadow watched as the larger shadow-"

"Just call them Batman and Robin. We all know that's who you're talking about."

"It's for the atmosphere!"

"And you told me to be quiet!"

"Seriously? Continue the story."

"The smaller shadow-"

"Robin."

"Fine. Robin watched as Batman flew over to the-"

"See! I knew he was a vampire! He flew! Vampires fly!"

"Damian, do you want a bedtime story or not?"

"Umm. Yes, story."

"Then stop interrupting!"

"Okay."

"Robin watched as Batman flew over to the warehouse and crept up to the skylight. Why the warehouse had a skylight nobody truly understands, but it allowed him to see the goons in side. He carefully opened the skylight and slipped inside to the catwalk. Robin turned his attention back to the street outside.

"The street was empty except for the goons car. The wind was blowing hard enough and the walls were thick enough that Robin could not hear anything going on inside the warehouse. He double checked his comm was working and scanned the surrounding alleyways. Five minutes passed. Ten. Twenty."

*Knock Knock Knock*

"Oh, what now?!" Dick turned to glare at the door, where he assumed the knocking was coming from.

"I got it." Alex said, getting up from the chair he'd been sitting in while listening to the story. He went to the door, and knocked twice to indicate that they were awake and up. The door opened, revealing two bluemen.

"We're here for 169 and 214."

"Isn't it a bit late?" Dick asked from his spot on the bed next to Damian..

"Up. Now."

Dick grumbled and rolled off. He turned around and picked up his brother. Damian snuggled into a comfortable position with his toy. "Later, Alex." Dick said, following the bluemen out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sigmore Friedman first saw the job opening when a google ad popped up on the screen on his email, a bright picture you see out of the corner of his eye. He hadn't given it any mind, focusing on planning and paying for the funeral of his pregnant wife Penny who had been killed in a car accident on the freeway the day before on her way to work. Neither driver had even been drunk. The car in front of his wife and to the right had not seen her in their blind spot and she had not braked fast enough. No one was to blame, yet the other driver's family was demanding payment for hospital bills. Payment his limited insurance wouldn't fully cover when combined with Penny's funeral costs, which the other driver should be covering.

The ad came up again a week later. Sigmore had returned from the funeral to an empty apartment. Both he and Penny had no real family to turn to. Sigmore had grown up in foster homes around the state of Massachusetts, while Penny had lost her parents and younger brother to another car accident three years ago. There was supposedly an Uncle of Sigmore's somewhere, but he had never reached out to Sigmore. Sigmore thought he might be in jail. It was in a dull state of mind he had flicked on his computer and started clicking through emails. He glanced at the ad, but it didn't hold any real value to him. Those science experiments were normally hoaxes anyways.

Three weeks after that, to sum up a month of bad luck, Sigmore's lab exploded while he was on his midday break. The chemistry experiment that exploded had not been his experiment, which had focused on a new interstellar communication system that they hoped would help suborbital flights become a reality. However, with nowhere to continue testing, and all the testing materials and most of the data destroyed, the lab officials had let go of all the scientists, for at least the time being.

It was with those disasters fresh on his mind and the pressing need for a new job that Sigmore came across the ad for a third time. All his savings had been decimated by the funeral costs and paying the other driver's exorbitant hospital bills. The last paycheck from his last job barely covered rent for that month. He was debating the need to sell his motorbike and use the money from that to cover groceries. He knew he had to find something fast and demand at least some money up front if he didn't want that to happen. The bike was not worth a lot, but it would cover the necessities.

The ad kept popping up as he searched for jobs and applied to them. He ignored it at first, but as the rejections kept rolling in and his beloved bike was sold to some teen, he decided to at least see what it was trying to tell him. The job, at first glance, seemed like a good deal. The research was in communications, his specialty, and the possibility of parallel universes, an area that greatly interested him. Looking a little deeper only showed good pay and the promise of a fresh start. He had applied immediately, thinking it couldn't hurt. If it didn't pay out, he could keep looking for other jobs in the meantime.

Two weeks later, Sigmore was on a plane to Europe after having sold everything he couldn't fit into one large suitcase and a backpack, donating what couldn't be sold, and tossing what couldn't be donated. He spent a week in Germany with some higher ups, being shown around the countryside while reading through classified documents on the experiment he was to participate in. Turned out, they wanted him to be the first one to travel between dimensions and test a communication system that would hopefully work a bit like a cell phone to ease exchange of information between the two dimensions.

He should have known it was all too good to be true. At least he'd had his suspicions. Something seemed wrong with all the blackout and inconsistencies on the pages, but that was forgivable with the apparent delicate nature of the project, according to his guide. Keeping with the secretive nature, after the week in Germany, he had been driven to an undisclosed location blindfolded. When they took it off, he was in a small hospital like room.

"This will be your room for now. We need to do some quick tests to make sure you're healthy enough for this job. Please hold still." They took his blood pressure, temperature, height, and weight, before taking a small bit of blood. Clue two that something was wrong, if the fact he signed up through a google ad didn't count as a clue. Sigmore didn't realize a communications project required him to be in peak condition. His old project certainly didn't, but then they _were_ right next to a Chemistry lab room. Health was obviously not taken too deeply into account. The tests probably had something to do with the portal. He sighed and decided to take a nap, hoping answers were more forthcoming later.

When Sigmore woke up a few hours later, he saw a large backpack next to a set of clothing with a note lying on top of it. The note said that he should put the clothes on, they were his uniform, and to put anything he found valuable and wanted to hold onto in the backpack and bring it with him. Nervously, he changed and packed his photo album, journal, some old letters and a few knickknacks in the bag and filled the rest of the space with clothing he liked. Uncannily, right after Sigmore finished and focused on lacing his boots up, the people who had escorted him through Germany and to this location entered dressed in identical blue, nurse outfits.

They led him through the halls to a new destination, and that's when he realized the catch to his "fresh start".

"No." Sigmore said as he locked eyes with a young teenager, maybe even a preteen, hooked up to some metal thing that reminded him of the movie _The Incredibles_ for some odd reason. "No. You never said there were kids involved with this."

"Need I remind you, Mr. Friedman, that you signed a contract stating that you understood the risks involved in this particular experiment." Doctor Mordred said.

"I signed a contract saying I understood the risks to me. Nowhere in that thing did it say the experiment involved kids!"

"Relax, Mr. Friedman. He's not even a kid. He's thirteen."

"Fourteen," the teen spoke up.

"I'm four!" A high voice piped in from the corner.

"Fo-." Sigmore spun to glare at the doctor. "That's a kid!"

"The little one is not a part of this, merely… leverage. I suggest you do as we say."

The teen cursed. "You said you wouldn't hurt him!"

"Quiet! Mr. Friedman. Stand in front of the other circle." Sigmore just held his glare. "Mr. Friedman…"

"Just do it." The teen interjected. "Please. Don't draw it out. It will be worse if you do." He sounded resigned. How long had they had this kid? The boy caught Sigmore's eyes again. "Please, Mr. Friedman."

Sigmore surrendered, and went to stand in front of the second circle, his escorts standing near him to keep him from any sudden moves. He glanced back at the kid.

"Sigmore." He introduced.

"Richard."

"Shut up." The doctor said.

Then, the machine started up. Sigmore could see how much pain the kid was in, although he was doing a good job of suppressing it. The two blue-dressed men who'd escorted him to the room shoved him forward, and all he could see was a swirl of colors until a new, different environment sharpened into being. He was falling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Something was poking his shoulder. Dick could vaguely feel it through the haze over his mind. Probably Damian. Dami thought it was a good wake up call, but then he also thought that he was descended from a vampire and a supermodel, so his opinions were open to question. Strangely though, Dick couldn't really remember going to sleep.

Okay. Focus. Three steps to remembrance when waking up somewhere unknown. First, test your senses. Second, logic what may have happened. Third, If you don't remember following that logic, then think of the last thing you can remember and work from there.

Start with feeling. Okay, the poking. Felt like Dami, maybe, but don't dismiss it. Dick's wrists and ankles stung, like he'd been poked by a million needles and electrocuted. That's pretty normal. There was something heavy lying across his body. He was probably strapped down. Also normal. What else… It felt like there was something on his face and in his mouth.

Switching to taste to figure that one out, it tasted metallic and rubbery. The air around it and coming out of it tasted a bit dry. Oxygen! Dick was on a rebreather and it was giving him oxygen! So, something must have happened that inhibited his ability to breathe. That combined with the stingy feeling and the ringing in his ears meant that he'd probably gone through another trial. Well, no need to remember that and the sooner he "woke up", the sooner he could go back to his room or to class or whatever.

Dick forced his eyes open. It took a couple tries and lots of blinking before he could get them to stay open. Just as he was starting to somewhat focus on the ceiling, the poking stopped and a blurred shape came into view. He blinked some more, and the shape sharpened into Damian, who was staring at him with a vaguely concerned expression. Dami's mouth moved, but Dick's ears were still ringing. A blueman pushed the kid aside and started checking Dick over, shining a flashlight in his eyes and such. Dick felt Damian crawl up next to him, and snuggle in, hugging Dick's arm. Damian resisted any attempts for the bluemen to pull him away, judging by the tugging Dick could feel on his arm. Dick would have smiled, but the rebreather was in the way.

Maybe he should just settle in, like Dami had. It didn't feel like he'd be going anywhere anytime soon. With that in mind, Dick closed his eyes and drifted back into dreamland.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Aaaaaaaaaannnddd we lost him. Again."

"Well, he seems to be only sleeping this time. He must be absolutely exhausted. It was about their bedtime. Plus, his vitals are stable. He probably doesn't even need the rebreather."

"Yeah, but you heard the boss. We need to keep it in until noon, minimum, just in case. It's thanks to him that the experiment was successful. Mr. Friedman's biostats were reading bright and clear that he's in good condition on the last check. If he can get the comm system up, we might even be able to cut down on Phase I in the future."

"Hey. The little one's still awake."

"Oh shit. Go to sleep, kid. You can stay with your brother."

"What makes you think they're brothers?"

"They look alike, and you've seen the way they act. If they're not brothers, I don't know what they are."

"Oh look, he's out."

"Good. He's got quite the glare for a four year old."

"Yeah, quite."


	29. Finding Neverland

Chapter 26: Finding Neverland

Kaldur sighed. He and Wally had no luck in Austria, Poland, the Czech Republic, or Germany. They were now in the capital city of Belgium, their last stop before heading to meet up with the others in Geneva. From checking in with the others, he knew no one had any luck in their countries. In fact, Superboy's team was already waiting in Geneva and Miss Martian's team was finishing up in the Netherlands. If they didn't find any kids here, they would be back to the drawing board. At least Batman and Blue Jay were fairly sure they were honing in on the tracker anklet signal.

Wally looked miserable. Kaldur could tell he was clinging to the little hope they had. If they couldn't find Dick, or worse, found his dead body, the downward spiral would probably get out of control. The searching was the only thing keeping Wally together. The embassies were keeping an eye out for the kids, but that was all they could do.

" _Hello._ " Kaldur said in French to the gatekeeper of the embassy when they reached the gate. " _My name is Aqualad, and this is Kid Flash_." They were in civvies to remain incognito, so Kaldur felt the introduction was necessary. " _We are looking for the missing kids_."

" _I thought the Justice League had stopped searching so as to not endanger the kids."_

" _The Justice League, as an entity, has but we are not a part of the League, merely related to a few of them."_

" _Hmm. Come in."_

" _Merci beaucoup."_

The gate opened, and they went inside. The gatekeeper pointed them to the main building, where the ambassadors were. They had gone through the process several times now, so Kaldur walked with confidence to their destination. The layout was similar to the one in Germany, so he was not truly paying attention to his surroundings. That is why he was slightly surprised when Wally stopped him with a tug on sleeve and a whispered "Kaldur."

"Yes, Wally?" He asked.

"Look over there. Do you see what I see?" Kaldur looked.

"I do not know where you are going with this. It is merely a couple of… a couple of…"

"Kids." They breathed together. They both smiled. Wally made to speed over to them, but Kaldur stopped him.

"Let us go inside and talk to the ambassadors. We do not want to spook them. And they may not be the kids we are searching for."

"Alright." Wally threw one last look back at the kids, and then entered the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**6 weeks ago**

When Charlie had first been put in charge of food and supplies for the escape plot, he'd been upset, to say the least. All he saw was the danger in entering an area where there were certain to be bluemen. He didn't think about the dangerous jobs the other leaders of the plot were in charge of or about the extreme importance of having nutrition and water and disinfectant. When he complained, he didn't understand why Dick went silent, something unreadable flickering through his eyes.

"We need food and water." Dick said. He didn't speak again for the rest of the meal.

Later that day, when they were in their room, Roy turned to face his roommate. "Humans can only survive three days without water and three weeks without food in ideal circumstances. If we don't have water or food, we won't last long out there. If we don't have a lot of food, not even considering how many people we'll have to spread it between, we won't last long. You've got the most important job."

"And the most dangerous."

"No. I have the most dangerous job. I need to get the bluemen's attention entirely focused on me or none of you will succeed. Dick has to take out at least three bluemen to get to and take over the control room, and barricade it so he can have enough time to open the doors. Then, he has to make it out of there, with a four year old. Your job is dangerous, yes, but all of ours are. Even Alex's."

"How is Alex's job more dangerous than mine?"

"Well, I wouldn't say Alex's is more dangerous than yours, more like… equally dangerous. He has to be the last one out so he can take out anyone who comes after the kids at the back of the pack and help Dick and Dami blend in when they catch up. Plus, he has that book of names."

"Oh."

"Get the food, water, and, if you can, medical supplies, especially disinfectant, bandages, and fever reducers. You'll have people to help you, whoever you can grab and quickly convince. There's a door out in the kitchen. You'll be fine."

"I guess so." Charlie and Roy were quiet for a while, Roy actually working on some work his teachers had assigned, mostly for something to do, and Charlie thinking over the plan. It occurred to him, "Roy, how are you going to get out? You said you were planning to lead them downstairs into the labyrinth and it will be hard to escape from ALL the bluemen. You have a trick up your sleeve?"

Roy shifted uncomfortably. "I'm… I'm not getting out."

A pause.

"WHAT?"

"Shh." Roy listened anxiously for anyone outside. "With my arm missing, I'll be a liability."

"You still know more about the wild then most of us."

"Not necessarily. My memory is kind of foggy. I might mix up a safe plant with a highly poisonous one."

"Still closer than we'd get."

"I can do more good here. If I can get the bluemen away from the group, more kids will escape. Kids like Damian and Dick and Julie."

"Don't bring up Julie." Roy sighed and looked down.

"Look. Leaving me behind is the only option if the plan is to work. If they don't kill me for aiding in the escape attempt, I will survive until you can get help back here. Dick's days are numbered, you've seen the white in his hair, and it's impressive Damian's even lasted this long considering he's four. I don't know about Alex's chances for survival here, but he is not as good as a distraction and you need to get the food. I'm the only one who can really pull off the distraction."

"So, what? You're just giving in?"

"Not giving in. Being a hero. Sometimes, heroes have to make sacrifices so others can be saved."

"Sometimes, not always."

"But this time. Please, Charlie, promise me you'll let me do this."

Charlie sighed. "Fine. But I'm not happy about it. You'd better be here when I get back."

"Heh. Don't count on it. And take care of Dick and Damian. They're going to need it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**4 weeks ago**

As soon as the bluemen's attention riveted to his roommate, Charlie slipped away down the hallway. He glanced back once, getting a good last look at his friend before turning the corner. "I'll be back, Roy. Just hang in there." He whispered. Bluemen rushed past him, not giving him a second glance as Roy kicked up a fuss. He grabbed a few kids as he ran down the hallway.

"What-?" One girl questioned, as he pulled her along. She obviously had not gotten the memo to be ready for change that Charlie and Roy had spread earlier in the day.

"No time. Follow me." Once he was sure she would come. He let go of her to use his hand to snag someone else to follow them. He took out one blueman on the way to the kitchens. Right before they got there, he spun to face the crowd of kids he'd gathered. Well, not really a crowd. There were ten people other than himself. "We're leaving. Everyone. We need to get as much food, water and medical supplies as we can carry or we won't survive long." He passed around makeshift bags Alex had made using spare clothes, mostly shirts, in the camera's blind spot when he could get away with it. Roy had made a few as well. There were more than enough for everyone currently present.

"Water is the most important, followed by food. If you see medical supplies, especially gentle disinfectants or fever reducers, grab those as well, but as an afterthought. If you don't see any, don't bother. We need to be out as quickly as possible. Ready?" Determined nods all around, "Let's go."

Storming the kitchen was by far one of the best moments of Charlie's life, looking back on it. Oh, it wasn't fun at the time, mildly terrifying actually. However, like a roller coaster, it was over quickly and he looked back thinking, _did I just do that?_ The best part, of course, was knocking a large pot of creamy white chowder with chunks in it into the blueman cook so she couldn't follow them. He also slashed a spoonful of the chowder through the air, coating her partner. Then, he stuffed a gazillion baked potatoes, a jug of water, two boxes of protein bars, and three crushed loaves of bread into his pouch, carrying three more loaves. It was amazing how much could fit in a t-shirt and pants combo sewed together. Alex had done a good job.

Glancing around, Charlie saw the others had succeeded in ransacking the kitchen of everything they could reasonably carry. The door unlocked with a loud buzz. That was their cue. _Thanks, Dick._ Charlie thought. _Now, get yourself out._ He led the charge out the kitchen door and into the sunset. They ran into a nearby forest and looped around to catch up with the larger crowd of kids and then took off down the pathway, moving fast, but not too fast. Their endurance would have to last.

Eventually, the group slowed to a walk, and kept going. The older kids recognized the importance of continuing to move and helped the younger kids who were flagging and hungry. They had not gotten an abundance of exercise in the prison, so their long run had more to do with desperation than physical ability. As the night wore on, the path in the forest got darker, and some of the older kids, Charlie included, called for a rest and count. The second the order was communicated, half the group collapsed, rubbing aching feet and breathing heavily.

Charlie scanned the crowd. His heart sunk as he realized none of his friends were there. He wasn't surprised not to see Roy there, but Damian should have been easy to spot as everyone sat down with how tiny the kid was, and Dick would have been with him. He couldn't even see Alex. Crap. Roy had asked him to protect them. What was he supposed to do now? They were the real leaders of the escape. He was just the food guy, the milkman. He couldn't lead a crowd of kids who spoke many different languages to safety. How would he even communicate with them? And if all the others were left behind, they were probably dead or nearly dead! No way the bluemen hadn't recognized Dick Grayson taking out several of their own. And he was in the control room! They would KNOW he was an instigator, and his chances of survival were so low to start! And Damian was only four and so tiny and young. Whatever they were doing to him, the stress would get to him, especially without his big brother. This was bad. So bad. Alex at least should have made it out. What happened there?

"HEY!" SLAP.

Charlie snapped out of it to stare at the girl who had just slapped him. It was the kid he had grabbed earlier who had questioned what was going on.

"Finally. You stopped panicking. I've been trying to get your attention for a while. I have milk. It'll go bad before too long. What should I do?" Charlie rubbed his eyes with his fingers, forcing himself to focus on what he could make a difference on.

"Umm. Did anyone grab cups?"

As it turned out, another in the group in the kitchen had that forethought. The cups were small and plastic, but they were what they needed. Charlie carefully poured out a small, equal amount of the milk the girl had grabbed into each cup and the girl passed them out to all the kids. Eventually, just as he was almost out of milk—and some water for the lactose intolerant—she came back and told him bluntly "That's everyone but us. I'm Francine, by the way."

"Charlie." He said. "That's really everyone? I haven't even poured all the cups in the pack. There were 100 cups."

"Well. We don't have 100 people." Charlie looked to the cups and counted. 20 cups left.

"We should have more people. There were definitely more than one hundred people in the prison."

Francine shifted uncomfortably. "I guess they didn't make it." Charlie resisted the urge to curse. This was bad. He forced himself to stay calm. They'd have to make due. He stood up and climbed on top of the tree stump he'd been sitting on to pour the milk.

"HEY!" He called, grabbing everyone's attention. "Finish your milk and bring the cups to the nearest person with a white pouch for safe keeping. Has anyone seen Roy, Dick, or Alex?"

There was some murmuring in the crowd. "Who?" One kid asked.

"Roy, Dick, and Alex. 81, 169, and 187, I think were the numbers. They're the others who planned getting us all out of there." More murmuring.

"I don't think they made it." Another kid, older this time, said. Alex resisted the urge to curse again and rubbed his eyes with his fingers.

"Well, if you're 15 or older and are fairly responsible, come over here." Pause. "Please." Charlie hopped down from the stump and turned to face Francine. He picked up two of the loaves he'd picked up and handed them to Francine. "Can you divide these into 80 and pass them out? I think everyone could use a bite to eat while they're waiting." She nodded and grabbed two food carriers near her to help.

Charlie waited until it seemed that everyone old enough to help was in front of him. He wasn't sure all 14 teens were 15 or older, but beggars can't be choosers. "Okay. Umm. Well, I sort of expected most of the rest of the group to make it out so they could be in charge of getting everyone to safety. I was only supposed to make sure we had food. Umm. We're not prisoners anymore, and if we want to stay that way, we need to organize. From what I can tell from passing out drinks, there are 80 of us that got away. That's not as many as I hoped, but still good. We need to get to safety, to civilization, without anyone dying. Once we're there, we can get help and send someone back for everyone who didn't make it out.

"I think we should form eight groups of ten, each with its own leader and assistant leader. The leader and assistant leader would be in charge of making sure everyone in the group was safe and still with us. I had about ten people with me when we raided the kitchen. I can lead that group with Francine as my assistant," He glanced at her to make sure that was okay. She gave him a thumbs up. "Or we can split up the food between multiple groups. Either way, we need to be careful with our supplies. When we run out, we're out. We don't know when, or if, we'll be able to restock. Water is of the utmost importance. We run out of that, we have three days tops before everyone is dead, two if we keep moving. If you find a water source, we'll need to stop immediately and refill.

"There's fourteen of us here, so everyone grab a partner, someone you think you can work well with."

"Wait!" Francine stopped them before they could start talking. "You should decide if we want to split up the food carriers first. Advantages to keeping them all together are we have all the food in one place, which will make it easier to split it evenly. Disadvantage is the food is all in one place. Advantage to splitting them is we can split the food as well, but, disadvantage, that would be all the food you got for your group and some groups might go through food a bit faster unintentionally. Plus, we have ten carriers not including Charlie for eight groups. That means three groups would have two carriers that could split the load between them." They all looked at her, clearly considering it. "Hands up for splitting." 9 hands went up.

"Hang on." One of the kids said. "What if we gave each group a food carrier, but the rest would be in a group with Charlie and Francine in case of emergencies. That way, no group would have an advantage, and if something happened to one group's food, like a bear attack or something, we'd have extras, in a matter of speaking."

There were several murmurs of agreement, 'That could work's and 'Sounds Good's.

"All in favor." Charlie asked. Eleven hands went up. "Well, that's majority. Grab a partner, and then go find seven more people to join your group. If you speak another language, try to grab people who speak that language but have trouble with English so that you can communicate with them. Make sure to grab one or two of the younger kids as well. We should spread them out. Francine has people handing out bread. I'll grab the rest of the carriers and start sorting the food into eleven equal piles, three of which will be emergency piles for if a group gets mauled or something. If nothing happens, we can sort the food out once we run out normally. I'll send each group a carrier once that's sorted, and we'll resume moving after that."

"Isn't it kind of dark out?"

"Yes, but we need to put as much distance between us and them as we can before day break. We'll be easier to spot during the day than at night."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day couldn't come soon enough. Once it did, they kept trudging forward. Several of the younger kids had fallen asleep and needed to be carried, but the group system had worked wonders to keep anyone from being left behind as far as Charlie could tell. When evening came again, they made camp for the night. Charlie met with the leaders and they set watches. As it turned out, a few of the kids in the group had some experience with traps and so made makeshift snares not far from the camp to try to dredge up some more food for their stores. Every little bit would count.

The group of leaders, which the kids called the council, met when they made camp and talked about rations. Charlie had mentioned to the carriers before they split up that they would need to stick to only one meal a day until they had an idea of where they were going and how far away it was. Nobody had any idea where the prison was located, but some of the regular kids who had been bused in said they remembered turning into the woods a long time before reaching the prison. It could be a long journey ahead, even assuming they didn't get lost.

Also during the council meeting came another excellent surprise. One group's leader and assistant leader didn't come, and after an inquiry around the camp, a kid mentioned seeing a group near the back unanimously agree to rest and catch up. Another kid mentioned hearing screams hours ago. Unfortunately, as they would learn in the coming days, that group would never catch up. Charlie found himself hoping they'd picked up the main group's trail and would eventually catch up. Even being recaptured was better than the multitude of alternatives.

By the second day, three more people had disappeared by the evening count. "At least it wasn't an entire group this time," Charlie said to the rest of the council when the matter was brought to his attention. "We have to keep moving and hope they can catch up or were recaptured. There's hope for them that way." They reorganized to have frequent counts and check-ins and continued walking, putting more distance between them and the bluemen. This time, a couple people walked behind the group in rotating shifts and erased as much as they could of the group's tracks. The council communicated to the rest of the group to try to leave as little trace as possible.

It was a rough eighteen days. They ran across streams three times and managed to refill their jugs and make the water last. The food stretched out, but they still ran out at the two week mark. The amount of food they grabbed was a lot for eleven kids to grab, but not stretched across over 60 kids. Charlie didn't let anyone touch the berries that showed up unless they were absolutely sure they were blueberries, raspberries, or blackberries. That combined with a few measly trappings staved off the worst of their hunger the last few days of the hike. Warmth was an issue as well, and they put all claustrophobia and discomfort to the side to huddle for warmth when the sun set. It might not be winter any more, but it was still chilly at night under the tree canopy.

There were two noted deaths. One kid had simply collapsed after a week and a half of walking and wouldn't wake up. Charlie immediately sprang into action, but it was too late. The twelve year old was dead in minutes. The white streaks in his hair were way too telling for Charlie's comfort, although one of the kids swore the kid had a severe allergic reaction and no one had an epipen. Another girl had been mauled to death when a bear attacked a side of the camp when they'd been hanging up food for safekeeping. A couple others had been injured as well before they managed to scare the bear off. All the bandages were used up wrapping their wounds and several kids sacrificed strips of their shirts for fresh bandages when needed. Both of their losses were buried in makeshift graves with the most honor possible and improvised grave markers.

The first signs of civilization were a blessing. The sight of a bustling town made several of the kids stop and cry. While they regained their composure, a quarter of the council had split to find out where the nearest embassy was and beg for transportation. They had decided an embassy would ensure their safety the most. The remaining three quarters stayed to guard the group. Before they knew it, they were safe.


	30. Pick Up the Pace

Chapter 27: Pick Up The Pace

**One week two days ago**

Once they were safely inside the Embassy walls, Charlie, Francine, and three random council members—Alby, John, and Nichi—left the crowd of kids under the care of the rest of the council and went to talk with the ambassadors about what happened to them and what could be done for the kids they'd left behind. They also needed to talk about getting everyone fed and watered, getting everyone medical attention and then home safely, bringing their tormentors to justice etc. etc. Not necessarily in that order.

All of the ambassadors wanted to help them, but they argued over how best to do it. Turned out, a video had been released a few days before they arrived that may or may not be related to the giant hoard of kids seeking sanctuary. The Justice League was publically not able to follow any leads lest they risk getting everyone killed. There went the easy option. Charlie was sure Dick and Roy would be incredibly disappointed in the Coward League. Worse, the ambassadors wouldn't let any of the kids see the video! Apparently it might "traumatize" them.

The embassy did not have a bunch of resources, and a lot of their money was now going to keeping everyone fed and clothed. The onsite doctor, as well as a few volunteer doctors from the local area, was swamped examining everyone for problems from the hike and in general giving a bunch of frightened children check-ups. They hadn't even been able to manage finding people to counsel the children yet.

About half the group had wounded feet from continuing to walk after they had lost their slippers. Luckily, that meant there should be a fairly clear trail to follow back to the prison. Charlie was also thankful the Trail of Slippers, as a few of the elementary schoolers had coined it, hadn't led the bluemen right to them. In fact, it could be how the kids that did disappear vanished in the first place. They lost more slippers in the beginning than later on. Granted, the embassy would have to quietly gather the resources first. The low chance that the other kids were still there was not helping their case in getting a relatively quick rescue.

When Charlie finally had a moment alone, without anyone looking for him in the near future, he locked himself in a closet. The second the door was locked and barricaded by a broom, he broke down completely, finally allowing himself to mourn for the friends he'd lost, the friends he'd left behind. Even if the bluemen had not killed his friends outright, there was no way they had much time left. Roy had mentioned his worries about the amount of white in Dick's hair. And Damian was only four years old. Alex might still be alive, but who knew. He cried for about an hour, and then forced himself to calm down.

Charlie left the closet completely composed with only red eyes hinting at his loss of composure. He launched right back into his negotiations and planning with the ambassadors to try to solve the many problems. They didn't take too kindly to having a sixteen year old join them, but seemed to acknowledge it could have been someone younger, which would have been worse to them. At least Charlie was respectful, polite, and clearly someone the rest of the kids looked to as a leader. Still, progress was slow.

A week passed. The doctors had finished initial checkups of all the kids and all the kids had been given new clothing to wear and had cleaned up. However, that was as far as they had gotten. No parents had been called yet and no more funding had been given to the embassy. Some of the embassy workers had found ways to discreetly collect food donations around town. While food was still a bit quite stretched, it was manageable, especially with a few of the culinary-inclined kids helping in the kitchen.

Still, not enough was being done for those left behind. So when Charlie spotted the two unfamiliar teenagers walking into the base to talk to the ambassadors, he instantly abandoned the card game he'd been guilted into and followed them. They might have a car. They could at least prove that the other kids were still there or not.

Finding out they were Aqualad and Kid Flash, two people—sidekicks according to Roy and heroes or partners according to Dick, cue the glaring contest—who most certainly could and would help with all their ability, unlike the Coward League, instantly helped that small hope erupt. Then, they said they were looking for kids with number tattoos on their left arm. The league could not formally help, but that did not extend to their partners and individual heroes.

Charlie immediately stepped out and volunteered to help.

It took a couple of days for the two heroes to gather everyone, prepare—which included creating a safe and more comfortable spot for the kids already there and the ones coming along with other preparations—and find the trail again. Meanwhile, the embassy got a superhero guard consisting of Black Canary, Icon, and Rocket and would include more heroes once the rest of the kids had been rescued. The heroes and some of the embassy workers started making encrypted calls to the kids' homes starting with the closest and youngest to start working on getting them home safely.

The superheroes made a plan with the ambassadors and the kids' council. Charlie got some clothes with embedded tracking devices, just in case. He was the only one going with them back to the prison because no one wanted to risk more kids, but they needed one to show them where to go. Also, the Flashes could really only carry one person if they were going to make maximum time. Kid Flash would take Charlie whenever Flash needed a break so they could keep going. Once they were ready, Charlie slipped on a backpack filled with trackers, emergency medicine, food, and other important supplies and then climbed onto Flash's back. Kid Flash and Flash took off with Charlie as a guide going from slipper to slipper, finding their way back to the prison much faster than the journey had originally taken.

They stopped at each grave site that the kids had hastily made, and dropped GPS markers, so the deceased could be returned to their families for proper burials after the rest of the kids were safe or cremation if that's what the family wanted to do with the body. They found two bodies in addition to the two graves Charlie knew of. Both seemed to have collapsed and died, probably from withdrawal or exhaustion, and then frozen partially before starting to decay. One was a bit off the trail, and probably got lost from the rest of the group, as if Charlie didn't feel guilty enough before that revelation. The other had been partially mauled by an animal that lay, also dead, nearby. It was as they were burying the second body that Flash got a communication from Batman.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I don't understand. Why aren't we in Belgium with everyone?" Jason demanded of his father. "It's Dick! You know, my brother, your son! That kid confirmed he was involved. I understand why you pulled me from the mission—now that Alfred explained it anyways—but they know where he and the rest of the kids are. Why aren't we there?!" No answer. "Bruce!"

"The league needs to be visible until the last possible moment or they'll know we're coming. When we have the exact location, we'll take the zeta tubes. Alfred and the batplane are already waiting at the other end. Until then, we stay. Here."

"You don't sound happy about that." Jason could have sworn he heard the metal of the desk creaking where Batman was gripping it. Bruce gave him a look that practically screamed 'I'm not!'

"Keep looking for the anklet signal. Patrol in 20 minutes."

Jason sighed. "We already know where they are. Finding the anklet signal is a waste of time."

"No." Batman growled. "No information, especially not something as useful as a tracker anklet, is a waste of time. If they moved the kids, any of the kids, and one of the kids has an anklet with the same signal, we can find the location.

"Dick is not the only victim."

Jason hesitantly nodded his understanding, before turning back to his computer, frustrated. While Alfred had explained Bruce's silent thoughts on why Jason couldn't go 'traipsing all over Europe' with the rest of the team, it still irked Jason. He thought, no, he _knew_ , Bruce would have let Dick go. Bruce had let Dick go to Haly's circus with the team. That was practically the same thing. Even though the circus was Dick's first family and Dick never actually got permission to go and had to clean all the cars when he got back… He still went "traipsing all over Europe" with the team!

Jason was so focused on his inner rant, that he didn't notice right away when the program he was running opened a map of the world and started searching for the signal again. He did notice, however, when it flashed and started zooming in on a spot in Luxembourg, not far from the corner of the map with Belgium met Germany and Luxembourg, buried deep in a forest.

"Batman?"

"What, Blue Jay?"

"Look!" Bruce glanced over Jason's shoulder at his screen, and then did a double take when he saw what was on the screen.

"Coordinates." He demanded.

"50.0 degrees North, 6.0 degrees East"

Batman pulled up satellite imagery on the Batcomputer and plugged in the coordinates. After a couple minutes of waiting for the satellite to move into position, they were able to zoom in on a maze-like building with hundreds of heat signatures inside.

"That's it!" Jason cried. "It has to be."

Batman searched the surrounding area. There were several vehicles nearby, including a couple of buses and vans. Zooming out a bit, he found the Flashes heat signature about 45 kilometers away. He lifted his hand to his communicator.

"Batman to Justice League. Batman to Team. We have a lock on the anklet signal. Coordinates 50 degrees North and 6 degrees East."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sir," one of the security guards said, waving his boss over. "It looks like someone's hacked our signal."

Logarithm swept over, a crooked half scowl half smirk on his face. "Which brat do I get to discipline?"

"Well, you can discipline whoever you want, Mr. Burton, sir, but the hacker signal seems to be coming from outside the building. They're good. The hack is almost invisible. I wouldn't have noticed it if it didn't happen during a routine anklet check.

"Do a radar sweep of the area."

"Yes, boss." The guard did so, and soon zoomed in on two blurred signatures moving quickly towards the building, about 43 kilometers away.

Logarithm cursed. "I thought they would know better and listen to our warning."

"What should we do, sir?"

He was silent for a moment. "Sound the alarm. We'll evacuate and get as many kids as we can on the buses to the backup location. We should have enough time. They won't risk making a move without backup."

"And the kids we don't fit on the buses?"

"Kill them."

"Yes, sir."

Logarithm paused. "And make sure 169 and 214 don't make it on."

"Yes, sir."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick was forcing his sluggish body to do the allotted jumping jacks under the watchful eye of a blueman when the alarm went off, startling Dick and causing him to topple. Damian, who was sitting on the bed kicking his feet back and forth, jumped as well, and started searching the room for the source of the noise. Dick's head spun, but he forced himself to get to his feet because it wasn't worth getting punished over. To his surprise, the blueman shoved him back down before he could get up.

"Stay, brat." Then, they left the room, causing both Dick and Damian's anklets to go off, beeping loudly and burning slightly. Damian hopped down and crawled over to him.

This was weird. Dick didn't think he and Damian had been left alone without being restrained anywhere except their dorm room, with the window that didn't open and the triple locked door, since before the escape attempt however long ago. The anklets served as a reminder if they strayed too far even in the same room as a blueman. It didn't make sense that the bluemen would just ditch them. Well, no use worrying about it. It's not like they could go anywhere outside the prison anyways. Dick squashed his unease

The two boys listened as a storm of people passed in the hallway. The anklets would flicker whenever someone came close enough to their door, but no one entered the room. Dick closed his eyes as he waited for the buzzing electricity to slow down. Damian had his hand over the anklet and his eyes closed. It looked like he was waiting for it to pass as well.

"It'll pass." Dick whispered to him. Damian's eyes popped open met Dick's.

"I know." Damian replied, serious as a four year could be. "I like the buzzing. It feels nice. Sounds nice too."

"Alrighty then."

After about three minutes, the anklets shut off along with all the lights except the emergency lights, but the bluemen had not returned. It was eerily quiet, as the last set of heavy footsteps in the hallway faded. Dick hesitantly got to his feet and pulled Damian up. Holding Damian's hand—even with a broken/healing ankle, Damian still liked to walk places—Dick carefully led his brother to the door and nervously tried the handle.

It was unlocked. Dick's felt his stomach clench. Shouldn't he see an unlocked door as a good thing?

They eased into the hallway. Dick looked both ways and saw no bluemen. He turned towards where he was pretty sure the stairs were, and headed in that direction.

They hadn't walked more than ten feet when Damian suddenly tugged his arm and pointed at the wall.

There was a blinking knob with a clock on it. He could hear a faint ticking. 17 minutes 52 seconds and counting down. Okay. Maybe now was the time to worry.


	31. The Promised Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics in this chapter are mental conversation.

Chapter 28: The Promised Day

"Rahat, Rahat! RAHAT!" Dick slammed his fist against the door control to the stairs.

"Language." Damian piped up, causing the majority of the crowd, who had also made it to the stairs, to moan, and a few people to chuckle.

"I can't hack this fast enough. We only have 15 minutes left, and we're several floors underground, I'm sure."

"So… What do we do?" Another teenager piped up nearby. Dick hesitated.

"15 minutes until what?" A smaller voice piped up farther away.

"Until we're all dead if we don't do something. Those" he pointed to the countdown clocks on the wall, "are bombs. I think I can deactivate some of them, but not all. We need to pick a place and barricade the ceiling and the floor and deactivate the bombs around it."

"How about the Target Dump?" A kid, Dick thought his name might be Chris, piped up. He balked as everyone turned to look at him. "Th-there's probably some kids in there already, and it would be hard to move them. Plus, there's probably a good amount of water hidden in there, so we'll be okay if they can't dig us out right away."

All heads turned to Dick, looking for his decision. Dick didn't really understand why they were looking at him—there were older kids there, although maybe not more experienced—but he'd take it. "That'll work. Does anyone know how to get there?"

"I do," a brunette said.

"Lead the way."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frankly, Alex never thought they actually had fire alarms, much less that one would go off, and the bluemen would not leave all the kids inside. Well, it was federal regulation. They had probably been installed when the building was built, and not inspected since then. After all, the bluemen didn't really care about them, just their use as test subjects. When the alarm went off, he grabbed his book of names and slipped it into his waistband. He pulled his shirt over it so the bluemen wouldn't see it. Alex did a quick once over for Batkitty, but Damian took it with him when he and Dick disappeared three days ago.

When the door opened, Alex slipped into the hallway, and followed the mess of kids down the stairs. He stood up on his tiptoes occasionally, looking for a messy, mostly white head of hair with a black head right next to it, for Dick would certainly pick Damian up so the kid didn't get trampled. There was no sign of them, but there were enough kids that Alex refused to give up hope.

The crowd filed outside into an area surrounded by bluemen with guns. There were several in the circle shoving kids onto buses and into vans as they filed out. Alex tried to relax a bit. Damian and Dick were probably already on a bus. That, of course, was when there was a small explosion behind the building. A wave of whispers spread through the crowd of kids. They surged forward, shoving out of the building into the circle the bluemen created.

"Sir!" A bluemen shouted about the din. "That's full."

"All of you! Against the wall!" Whispers rippled out amongst the crowd of remaining kids as they moved against the wall. There was another explosion and flames flared into being on the building, not too far from where the kids were being lined up. "On your knees! Hands on your head!" Alex felt his stomach sink. Were they planning on keeping them like this until the buses got back? That could be hours, and the fire would definitely spread to here by then.

"They're gonna kill us." The kid next to Alex, Miriam, he thought her name might be, suddenly whined.

"What makes you think that?" Alex asked.

"There aren't enough buses." She said. Yeah, he'd go with Miriam until corrected.

"So?"

"So, there aren't enough buses and they're lining us up next to a building on fire. They all have guns. They're destroying evidence."

"Oh. _Merda_." He paused. "We need to get rid of those guns."

Miriam gave him an incredulous stare. "How? They'll shoot us if we get close."

"They'll shoot us either way. Maybe this way we can take some of them out with us."

"Is this what boys talk about at night? How to die efficiently?"

"You know us so well. What do you think video games are?"

"QUIET!" A hush immediately fell over the crowd of kids. The bluemen nudged a few more kids against the wall and then stepped back to form a line with the rest.

"I don't wanna die." Miriam whimpered. Alex slowly shifted, putting an arm around her covertly and pulling her close. The bluemen lifted their guns, pointing them towards the kids, whose frantic whispers grew louder and more panicked.

SWOOSH. The guns were gone. SWOOSH. Something, or someone, impacted with the line of bluemen, knocking them over like dominoes until someone was smart enough, and fast enough, to move.

"Timber!" A voice yelled as they fell. A red and yellow blur sharpened into a person, standing in between the kids and the bluemen. "So, which of you baddies wants a piece of Kid Flash?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That's the last of the ones in view." Dick said to Dibble, who had been helping him and Damian with the bombs, as Dick disabled his fifth bomb. "We need to do a perimeter check for any more though. The last thing we want is for a bomb to go off behind the room because we didn't realize it was there. There were ones on the sides we passed." The bomb was stopped at 8 minutes 50 seconds, but it had stopped counting at least 20 seconds ago. Dibble nodded, and gathered up the tools they had been using. Dick swooped Damian up so he wouldn't limp through the halls with his booted ankle.

"How's the barricade coming?" He called into the Target Dump.

"Almost finished!" came the reply. "The bombs?"

"All the ones in sight are deactivated. We're going to do a quick sweep for any more around the perimeter and then come back."

"Do you have time?"

"About seven and a half to eight minutes. If we're not back in five, close the barricade."

"And leave you outside?"

"It's better than everyone inside getting killed and closing the barricade will take a few minutes. We can squeeze through a small gap if there's still time left, but there should only be the smallest gap or it won't be able to close quickly. We'll be back."

"Fine. Go."

Dick nodded to the kid inside. "Coming or staying, Damian?" He asked his little brother.

"Coming." Damian said.

"Alright. Let's go so we can get back." Dick said to Dibble, and led the way around the corner to any remaining bombs that would have an effect on the Target Dump. "Let's do this fast."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kid Flash slowed to a stop, barely avoiding crashing into Flash who grabbed him so he wouldn't fall. Flash crouched down, pulling Kid Flash down with him. Charlie climbed off Flash's back.

"We need to wait for the rest of the League to arrive before making a move. Kid, I need you to do a fast perimeter. Stealth mode. Tell me what you see. Don't get caught. It could be a disaster."

"Gotcha." Kid Flash did a quick perimeter, and stopped just inside the tree line, staring in horror. The building was on fire, and a giant group of kids was being shoved into buses and vans by people in blue scrub-like clothing, holding guns. He ran back to Flash and Charlie. "They're moving the kids!"

"What?" Flash resisted the urge to curse. "They must have found out we were coming."

"How?"

"We'll find that out later. For now, we need a plan. If they're moving the kids, we can't plan on the rest of the League arriving in time. Charlie, give me the backpack." Charlie instantly handed it over. Flash rifled through it and pulled out a bunch of small trackers. "Charlie, stay here. We'll send all the kids we can your way. Grab a few members of the team as a guard when they arrive."

"The team?"

"Sidekicks."

"Partners." Kid Flash coughed.

"Partners." Flash rolled his eyes. "The younger heroes." They left. Kid Flash followed Flash to the edge of the forest. They went relatively slowly so as to not alert the guards to their presence.

"Shit." Kid Flash said. The buses were fully loaded sans a line of bluemen who were lining the kids up against the wall. "That's an execution line."

"Stay here." Flash said. He zoomed over to the vehicles and put a tracking device on each as quickly as he could do quietly and zoomed back to Kid Flash who was scanning the group of kids anxiously.

"I don't see him."

"Focus, Kid. We'll find him. I'm going to take the guns, and then you're going to start taking out the guards. Distract them and protect the kids. I'll ditch the guns and start evacuating them towards the woods. They should be safe there for now. Once I have the kids evacuated, we'll switch. Hopefully, by that point, the rest of the League and the team will be here. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Go."

SWOOSH! SWOOSH! Kid Flash knocked into one of the guards on the edge of the gun line knocking him over into the next. "TIMBER!" He tripped two more and then slowed to a stop in between the guards and the line of kids. "So, which of you baddies wants a piece of Kid Flash?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was silence for a moment as Kid Flash stared down the monsters that had been prepared to mow down a line of innocent children. Fire crackled in the building, as it slowly spread. Whispers sprouted up behind him, mostly on the vein of "Who's that?" and "Kid Flash," and a few names (e.g. Flash Kid and Speedy) that were clearly supposed to be him but not. He paid them no mind, for once, humming with energy while he waited for someone to make a move. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Flash stop near the edge of the line of kids, ready to evacuate them.

In the end, a loud sound from the building propelled them into motion. Part of the fifth floor collapsed onto the fourth. A bunch of the kids startled, and a few of the guards turned and ran to the buses, probably hoping to get away. One of the vans started up and took off down the road with a screech. Kid Flash let it go. Flash had put the tracker in place and he had a fight on his hands.

Taking down lots of gunmen, he couldn't really get an accurate count of how many he'd gotten; it was hard to take them out even without their weapons. Kid Flash had to redirect them several times from the weapons pile and the crowd of kids. Luckily, it didn't take much longer after that for the League and team to arrive, and the fight became a bit more even. Kid Flash switched to the part of the team guarding the kids at Aqualad's say, so that he could grab a quick breather, eat a protein bar for some more energy, and search for his best friend. Flash took off after the van that had left.

Less than ten minutes after the heroes arrived, all the bluemen were down and in the process of being tied up. The kids on the buses in the vans were unloaded into the swarm that had been in the execution line. There were even more kids there than had been at the Belgian embassy. Dick, however, was nowhere to be seen, making Wally want to cry out in frustration.

"There's people still inside!" Superman suddenly called out to the rest of the heroes. There were several quick kid-appropriate curses, and several not-so-kid appropriate curses, a quick activity assignment, and then Superman, Wonder Woman, Superboy, Red Tornado, and one of the Green Lanterns entered the building to find any kids still inside and bring them out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick hadn't thought when he'd dashed forward and pushed Damian out of the way when the ceiling gave in. He should have grabbed him and jumped back. Then they would be on the right side of the wall. As the dust settled, all he could see was little blinking lights, everywhere! All the knobs he'd stared at idly in the past before or after the torment of the day began were twinkling merrily at him as they counted down to inevitable doom. Of course it had to be this room! As if he hadn't been tortured enough in here, he had to die in here too? Maybe, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. At least it would be fast. Excruciating pain as the bombs went off, but only for a few seconds at most. And then, then there would be pure nothingness. No pain, no fear, no anything. He would be at peace. A tear slid down his cheek.

"Dick?" A quiet, unsure voice piped up next to him, grounding him in reality. No. Dick couldn't bring Dami down with him. He couldn't. There had to be a way out. Dick forced himself to push the fear to the back of his consciousness. He could be strong. He had to be. Dick pulled his little brother into a hug to try to calm his own tremors, as well as Damian's. "Dick, what do we do?"

"Hey! Hey, are you guys alive in there?"

"Dibble?" Dick called back. He'd forgotten about him.

"I'll take that as a yes. I'm going to try to dig you out." There were some scuffling noises.

"NO!"

"Huh?"

"No, you could accidentally bury us alive."

"I'll be careful!"

"There isn't enough time." As Dick spoke, Damian clenched him tighter, sinking into the older boy. "Get back to the Target Dump and barricade the door. You need to make sure everyone else makes it."

"I can't just leave you guys here!"

"You can and you will! You need to get to safety. Damian and I will figure something out. We'll be okay."

"You only have five minutes!"

"Even more reason for you to go."

"But you might not make it!"

"Dibble, please! The longer you take, the less time we have. If, if we don't make it, then I need you to pass a message on for me. You can be my hero in that respect as well as a hero to the other kids by returning to them before it's too late and giving them extra time to reinforce the barricade. Tell my dad… Tell my dad that I love him and tell my brother Jason that I'm proud of him. Tell them it's not their fault. We will make it though."

"You will make it?"

"Yes. Please, go Dibble."

Dick heard him retreating, and turned back to study the room at large. He chewed his lip as he looked around at all the controls and supplies. Standing up, he moved towards a large, thick rope he might be able to use to create a secure harness and makeshift grappling hook. "Damian, can you run me through exactly what you saw them do to make the swirly lights for Sigmore, including the exact buttons they pressed? I think I have a plan that might get us out alive."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alex hesitated as he moved through the crowd towards the green skinned girl standing on the edge of the crowd interrogating one of the bluemen. He hugged the book of names to his chest, having pulled it out from his waistband once he felt safe enough to do so. He planned to give it to the League to take some sort of attendance or something as soon as someone was free. Batman was talking to the pilot, who had to be Alfred, of a large black jet, occasionally scanning the crowd for his kid. A line of kids were in the process of boarding or waiting to board. Robin wasn't really being all that discrete as he weaved through the crowd, (What WAS he wearing? Alex could not see Dick in that. As similar as Jason looked, the idea of Dick in that was too hilarious. Was he even going by Robin anymore?) but Alex wasn't brave enough to face his roommates' family without more concrete information. Three days was longer than either of the boys had been gone before, but Alex REALLY didn't want to believe they were dead.

The rest of Dick's team and the members of the Justice League who were there were putting out the fire, and trying to enter to search for kids inside, but Kid Flash, Dick's best friend, Artemis, the girl he'd been with when he'd been kidnapped who thankfully hadn't been kidnapped as well, and this girl, Miss Martian he reminded himself, were guarding the kids in case they had missed any bluemen, offering comfort where they could. The second Green Lantern had made a ship around a group of kids and taken off with them to wherever they were planning to take them for their safety. The rumor was the escapees had made it to an embassy, and the embassy was the current base of operations.

Miss Martian, she might be the ticket to the information Alex craved. She could read minds after all. Maybe she could track Dick. It was the best way Alex could think of without confronting a tense Batman about his still missing son. It was better than using the line Dick had suggested if Alex made it out, but he didn't. "Hey, Batman? I'm a friend of your son, Robin. Umm. He's in that building over there, last I knew—yes, the one that's currently on fire—but I don't know if he's still alive. He was three days ago." How about no.

"Ex-excuse me, Miss." Alex said. She didn't react. He reached forward and tapped her on the arm. "Miss Martian?" Now, he got a reaction.

"What?" She said, clearly irritated.

"Please. I need to know. My roommates, I can't find them. I need to know if they're still… still…"

"Oh! I'm sorry, but I can't contact anyone I don't know right now. There's too many people and interference." Alex forced himself not to slump. He nervously checked the surrounding area to be sure no one was paying any attention to them. The blueman had passed out. He'd taken a bit of a beating from someone before being interrogated by Miss Martian. DaddyBats maybe?

"But you could contact someone you do know? Even if you hadn't talked to them recently?" He whispered.

"Well, yes, but-"

"Great! Because you should know one of my roommates! Umm." He lowered his voice even more, did a quick cursory check, and leaned towards her. "He used to be Robin." Alex whispered.

Miss Martian stared at him in shock for a moment, and then her eyes started glowing. Alex decided that was probably a good sign.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick was tying the final knots in his makeshift harness, securing Damian to his chest, when the blessed voice of one of his friends entered his head.

" _Robin?"_ He froze mid-knot.

" _M-M'gann?"_

" _Robin! You're okay!"_ Dick glanced up at the clock. Three minutes 44 seconds.

" _Sure. Relatively. I'm traught. You're here? Is-is Tati, I mean, Batman here too?"_

" _Yes! It's so good to hear you. We've all missed you so much. One moment!" There was a brief pause. "Batman?"_

" _What?" An irate mental voice grunted._

" _Batman!"_

" _Dick!? Are you alright?"_

" _I'm managing."_ Dick turned his main attention back to his baby brother, cinched the last knot attaching a long rope of which Damian was messing with one end, and moved to the control panel. _"Did you know that Talia had a kid? He's yours and he's adorable."_

" _Where are you?"_

" _His name is Damian. He thinks you're a vampire."_

" _I'm here. We're here. We'll find you. Just, keep breathing. I'm coming in there."_

" _NO! You need to get out of the building. There're bombs everywhere. We…, down here, there's a safe zone, but the rest of the building is about to go. There's only a couple minutes left. We're underground. You won't be able to get to us in time. The stairways are blocked."_

Hesitation. _"There's a safe zone?"_

" _Yes."_

" _You're there? Both of you? You're safe?"_

Dick hesitated himself, and pressed the final button. One minute 45 seconds. The automatic shutdown would take place in one minute 30 seconds. That gave him a 30 second window.

" _Not exactly, but I have a plan."_ He pulled his goggles over his eyes, and pushed Damian's head down. The kid immediately closed his eyes and tightened his hold on both Dick and Batkitty, who Damian had given his own harness. Dick gave his brother a peck.

" _YOU'RE NOT IN THE SAFE ZONE? GET THERE NOW! I'M NOT LOSING YOU! NOT NOW-That's an ORDER!"_

" _I love you, Tati. Thank you... for everything. Tell Jay I love him and I'm proud of him. I have a plan, but if it doesn't work… If it doesn't work, know that this isn't your fault. It's not either of your faults."_

A red bulb on the wall, not one of the bombs, suddenly started blaring and flashing a warning. _That's probably not good._

" _Dick?"_

"Ready, Dami?" There was a nod against his chest.

**ERROR. EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN INITIATED.**

**__**Ignoring that.

" _Richard?"_ Dick took a deep breath, focused on home, and took a step forward.

_"RICHARD JOHN GRAYSON-WAYNE! YOU ANSWER ME RIGHT-"_

**BOOM**


	32. Aftermath

Chapter 29: Aftermath

The second they slipped through the portal entrance, the wind assaulted them like sand on a beach, blowing at such a high speed and velocity that it felt like shards of glass were cutting into their skin. Damian felt Dick tighten his grip and curl around hesitantly forced his eyes open and peeked his head up a bit around Dick to see what was happening. Nothing could be heard above the rush of the wind.

The swirl of colors was confusing, painful on the eyes, and honestly made him want to puke. Dick's eyes were squeezed closed in pain from the wind, but he was doing a good job of shielding Damian. Damian only felt small flicks in the small gaps where he was unprotected by either the harness or Dick's body. He could see a circle showing the room they had come from growing rapidly smaller behind them. Suddenly, it exploded outward, briefly growing in size before flames and the edges of the circle impacted with Dick. Damian quickly scrunched up again as he felt Dick jolt. The circle closed completely less than ten seconds later.

The colors became even more erratic, striking at the two boys, mostly impacting and sticking to Dick. They were like a bucking horse or an angry snake or like an injured kitten striking out at the unfamiliar beings that passed by it. Damian watched in fascination as the colors seemed to be absorbed into his older brother's skin. He peeked behind him, towards their destination. A circle rushed closer, showing a similar destination to that which they just left, sterile, metallic, but not on fire. Then, that circle disappeared in the swirl of color. A new circle, filled with darkness, appeared, yet there was a much more comfortable feeling than where they'd been before or even where they were now.

They shot out through the new circle. Lightning fast, Dick yanked out the line of rope he'd had Damian make into a makeshift grappling hook and threw it with expert precision at a stalactite. The rope caught just in time and allowed them to swing over to a higher platform. Dick landed in a roll, carefully keeping Damian from getting squished. The explosion followed them out burning through the rope. Luckily, they had already landed and Dick quickly put the end near them out. He breathed heavily for a moment, which Damian used to check that Batkitty still had his cape.

"Are you alright?" The older boy breathed out in Romani. Damian nodded. Dick smiled, although his breathing still seemed a bit forced. He pushed up with one arm, keeping the other wrapped around his baby brother, and looked around. The smile slipped as he took in his surroundings. He groaned. "Rahat."

"What?"

"Wrong Batcave." At that moment, a thickset man dressed in a bat costume stormed out from the shadows towards the two boys. He was tall, scary, and had red eyes and stubble around his mouth. Dick wavered, his strength leaving him.

"Who are you? How did you find this place?" Not-Batman demanded.

Damian's brave older brother chose that moment to spasm and pass out, breath faltering.

"Dick?" Damian asked. He listened for a moment, but Dick was barely breathing. "Dick?" Wait… He wasn't breathing. Dick wasn't breathing! Damian looked at Not-Batman, the only person in the room who, no matter how scary he was, might be able to help. "He's… He's not breathing."

Not-Batman stared at him and tilted his head. "Speak English." He growled.

Damian burst into tears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason stared in shock as the building burst and then collapsed, burying four leaguers and any kids still inside. Superboy had exited loaded down with kids a mere thirty seconds before. He had yet to find his brother, but not for lack of trying. Flash had not reported finding him amongst the kids on the truck, so that meant Dick was either dead, inside, or acting his namesake and not approaching Jason.

The crowd of kids around seemed to have a lot of mixed feelings about watching their prison basically vanish. They seemed to be stuck between relief, happiness, and heavy shock. Some of the kids cheered as it went down, but others burst into tears with the culmination of what must be an incredibly stressful day. He glanced around at his teammates. Artemis was comforting some of the younger kids who were crying, and M'gann was standing near a sandy haired kid. They were both staring at the collapsed building in shock. M'gann had a hand over her mouth, and seemed to be holding back tears. Wally was scanning the kids again, also looking for Dick. The two's eyes met, the hopelessness of their situation sinking in. If Dick was still inside… And none of the leaguers had reported finding him…

Jason wrenched his gaze from Wally's and frantically searched out his father. Batman was standing several feet from the batplane, facing the collapsed building. A hand was on his earpiece, probably trying to contact the leaguers inside. Jason made a beeline for him, weaving through the crowd of kids as he made the fastest time he could.

"Batman?" He asked pulling up next to his father. Batman's head jerked to face him, and then, seemingly uncaring of the potential audience, he pulled Jason into a hug. Jason stiffened. Batman was shaking, and since when did the BATMAN hug?

"Batman?" He asked again, his voice small. "Batman, I couldn't… He wasn't…" Batman shook his head, but didn't say anything. After a minute or so, he pulled back, and straightened up. He put a hand on Jason's shoulder and guided him into the Batplane, which had just finished loading kids. They squeezed their way to the cockpit, Batman pressing a button to raise the ramp on the way.

Batman pushed his son down into a chair and strapped him in, before sitting down himself. He took the copilot controls next to Alfred.

"Sir?" Alfred asked, looking around for a different Wayne.

"Prep for takeoff, Alfred."

"What about…" Jason started.

"Prep for takeoff!"

Alfred flipped the switch and pressed the intercom to speak with the kids in the cargo hold.

"Welcome aboard the batplane. Batman and I will be flying you to the Belgian Embassy and then returning for more of your friends. There are other Justice Leaguers already there who will protect you and help you get situated until we can return you to your homes. I assure you that everyone there wishes only to help you. Please strap yourselves in to the best of your ability and hold on. Please stay seated for the duration of the flight. We will be taking off momentarily."

Alfred turned off the intercom and did his final preflight checks. They took off. Jason stayed silent.

"Blue Jay, you will be joining the group at the embassy."

"What? But-"

"No discussion."

"But Bruce, what about-?"

"I need you far away from those people."

"Master Bruce…"

"No names in costume."

"Well, Master Batman, I believe we require a bit of explanation."

Batman huffed, and then ran a hand over his head. He pulled the cowl off, facing them as Bruce. Jason responded by taking his mask off.

"Is the intercom off?"

"Yes sir. I just checked."

Bruce nodded. "I'm not sure if you saw Alfred, but the building exploded and then collapsed."

"I believe I may have heard something, but that does not explain why you were so eager to leave with Master Blue Jay as quickly as possible."

"Before… the building exploded. Right before. Miss Martian connected me to Dick."

"Really? That's great."

Bruce winced, and looked at the floor. He took a deep breath. "He was still inside, trapped. He said there were bombs and they had made a safe zone underground, but he wasn't in the safe zone."

He faced Jason. Jason shook his head, tears building up.

"He wanted me to tell you…

"No." Bruce met Jason's eyes and put a tentative hand on the boy's shoulder.

"He wanted me to tell you that he loved you and that he was proud of you." The tears overflowed. Jason shrugged the hand off.

"If he's so proud of me, then he can tell me himself!"

"Jason…"

"No! I refuse to believe he's dead. Not when… He's hung on this long… It doesn't make sense he would go now!"

"Jason…"

"GO BACK AND FIND HIM!"

Bruce sighed. "Jason, right before the building collapsed, Dick stopped responding, and the last things he thought indicated that something went wrong down there. There was a surge of pain before the link cut off abruptly. I know you don't want to accept it, I don't either, but Dick is gone. He's not coming back."

"Sirs, I'm sorry to interrupt." They both turned their heads towards Alfred, "but we're approaching the compound. It would be prudent to put your masks back on now." Bruce looked back at his son and gave his shoulder a brief squeeze.

"Take a few deep breathes." Jason nodded and did so, scrubbing away his tears. "Brave face. I'll be back later. Stay here." Jason nodded again, and put his mask on. Bruce pulled his cowl on, becoming Batman once more.

Alfred turned on the intercom. "We'll be arriving shortly. Please let us know when we land if you are shaken up from the flight or if you may need additional assistance."

"Batman," Jason whispered once Alfred had turned the intercom back off again. Batman glanced at him. "Find his body. Find his body and I'll… I'll believe you."

Batman opened his mouth to respond, but seemed to think better of it. He gave Blue Jay a curt nod, and turned his focus back to landing safely.

"And Batman… Do you think he would mind if I… if I went back to being Robin? I know it's his legacy, but I…Maybe he…I mean…"

"I think he would be happy with whatever you wanted to do, and no, he would not mind. I think he'd be even happier."

"Okay… Maybe… I'll think about it…"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick was breathing again. That's what mattered. Damian reminded himself. His big brother was not abandoning him with Not-Batman. He never intended to. Dick didn't leave him alone with scary people, not when he could help it anyways. Dick had told him that after he'd woken up in the trunk and Damian had asked him why he left Damian alone with the scary people. Dick had reassured the toddler that he had not intended to, and he had been with him the whole time, technically, just not awake.

Still, Not-Batman was not Father, and Father did not seem to exist here. Or, well, he had died while still a kid, older than Damian but younger than Dick. Luckily, Not-Batman was skilled in sharp pointy things and things that beeped that made people better. Shortly after Damian had started crying, he had rushed over, separated the two boys, and made Dick breath again. He hadn't made Dick wake up;, he said Dick was in a kome, come-a, coma, something like that, and might not wake up for a while, but Dick was breathing, so Not-Batman wasn't all bad.

Not-Batman did not like being called Not-Batman. He had tried to tell Damian that he was Batman and so should be called Batman. Damian told him that Father was Batman and he wasn't Father, so that meant he was Not-Batman. Since Not-Batman would not tell Damian his real name and Not-Batman sounded better than Fake-Batman or Imposter, Damian stuck with Not-Batman. He had tried Imposter, but Not-Batman got more irritated and told him to 'call him Batman, or Not-Batman. What did he care?'

Not-Batman seemed particularly concerned about Dick's scars. Damian told him Logarithm gave Dick the scars, not Father. Not-Batman had asked who Logarithm was. Logarithm was the ultimate tall, scary man. He hurt Damian too. See. Damian showed him his cast, which Alex had decorated so beautifully. But Dick made Batkitty. Damian's big brother was the best. Not-Batman had responded by taking an x-ray of Damian's ankle.

Currently, Not-Batman was paying Damian no attention as he checked the beeping machines around Dick to be sure he was breathing properly and such, so Damian explored the cave. Not-Batman had told him off when he went near the weapons the day before, causing Damian to make a face. Dick would probably tell him the same thing though.

There was a table filled with bottles near them. Damian climbed up to grab one. He didn't bother to read the label, Not-Batman drunk from the bottles all the time, so surely it was something good. He popped the top with some effort, and started guzzling the fizzy drink. It burned going down and made his brain feel fuzzy, but that was probably because he hadn't drunk anything except milk and water lately, mostly water.

Ugh. He didn't feel too good. No more fizzy drink. Maybe he should go find Not-Batman for some milk…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air was getting a bit hard to breathe when Carly and Anthony figured out that the giant tanks were oxygen. The kids took turns breathing the pure oxygen, but didn't dare try opening the tank to the world. They didn't want the air to escape and were afraid releasing the oxygen could cause another explosion or fan the flames that they had barely managed to put out near their haven.

Dick's work had managed to keep the Target Dump from being eliminated completely, but it wasn't fool proof. The ceiling was barely holding from the debris that collapsed on top of it, and the fire had reached the outskirts of the room before it ran out of wood to eat. The downstairs was mostly metal, after all. Yet even metal is affected by extreme heat. And it was hot downstairs. They were running out of water fast, and who knew how long they would be trapped down there. The bluemen certainly weren't coming back for them.

There was a flaw in the plan. It relied too much on people coming to rescue them and realizing they hadn't been killed in the explosions. It could be days until it reached that point, and some of the kids in here definitely did not have days to wait. The rest of them would follow soon after. They were downstairs for a reason after all.

Dibble curled up in the corner of the room, hiding his face. He knew that Dick and Damian's chances of survival were close to nil. There were most likely bombs around the outside perimeter and inside of the room they were trapped in by the ceiling collapse. Even if there had only been a bomb or two, there was not enough time for them to deactivate the bomb, especially since Dibble still had the tools, and create a barricade. They would need an alternate way out and there just wasn't one.

Leaning against a chair leg, Dibble listened to the soft scratching that had been going on for at least an hour, slowly getting louder. He didn't really know what it was. Maybe a rat or something had gotten caught in the explosions and was trying to dig its way out. It was rather soothing though. There was a soft murmur of voices on the other side of the room. The kids tried not to talk too much in general on account of oxygen preservation. They would still talk every now and then to calm their nerves, but at whispers to use the least amount of air possible.

It was weird though. It felt like the whispers were growing more distinct near his ear… Was that a breeze? Dibble looked up startled. As he watched one of the medium sized pieces of debris shifted, creating a small hole near Dibble but on the ceiling. The breeze ruffled through his hair. A couple small pieces, nuts and bolts, dropped to the floor, narrowly missing one of the other kids. More kids started taking notice as Dibble stared at the hole disbelieving. The debris had shifted a little bit during the ages they'd been down there, but not this much.

"HELLO?" Anthony shouted. "IS SOMEONE UP THERE?"

"Shhh!" A younger boy Dibble did not know said. "What if it's the bluemen? They'll kill us!"

"Hello?" Someone responded. All the kids froze in terror. Silence reigned for a moment, no more debris shifting and none of the kids moving. "Hello? I heard someone call. How many are down there?"

Carly, who had been right next to Anthony, nudged him. "Oh. Uh. NOT TOO MANY!" He called up.

"We'll have you out soon. Don't worry." The shifting resumed. The hole slowly grew bigger. The kids were careful not to stand right under it so they wouldn't get hit by any debris falling. "Hand me a flashlight!" The voice called to someone else. A moment later, a ray of light shined down on the crowd of children who cringed from the sudden brightness. "I'm Superman." The voice who now had a face said as the shifting continued on around him. Several murmurs arose from the crowd of trapped children. Didn't Superman give up on them? But Dick said it was a front to buy time… So maybe it really was Superman? "I have Green Lantern, Green Arrow, and several of our partners helping dig you out." Superman continued. "Most of your friends made it out okay. We're treating the injured and moving everyone to a safe base away from here until we can get you home. The bad guys can't hurt you anymore." There was silence while that sunk in. "Are any of you injured?"

After an exchange of looks between the older children who'd been put defacto in charge, Anthony called up. "We took refuge in the Target Dump. There's lots of medical supplies in here, so we cleaned up everyone's scrapes, but there's four kids who need serious medical attention. They were in here already. They're hooked up to a bunch of machines. We were afraid to disconnect them, but I don't know if they're still okay. There's a generator in here, but it's faulty."

"Okay. We'll need to get them out first then. Please have patience."

"Alright!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thomas Wayne, Batman, fiddled with a few monitors as he checked on his patient. Although the little one, Damian he reminded himself, had said he was 14, the kid looked like he couldn't be older than 12. So young. Too young, really, to go through the traumas that were clearly evident all over his body. Most of the scars, especially the ones on the kid's back, were relatively new, maybe a month or two old, but there were a few that dated back years.

According to the little one, they were Bruce's kids and their father was Batman. Thomas knew this couldn't be true, but it did explain how they'd gotten into the cave and why the little one insisted on calling him 'Not-Batman.' It was better than 'Imposter,' but he clearly was not what the little one expected. He was sure he could get more answers from the older kid when he woke, but given that the kid had called for Bruce a few times after he had passed out three days ago, the older kid probably believed the same thing.

There had to be an alternative explanation. Bruce had died almost two decades ago. He had buried him and beaten up his murderer. Bruce's death was why he had stopped being a doctor, why he had built a casino, why he fought crime. If Bruce wasn't dead, if Bruce was just as violent as he was, Thomas wasn't sure he could live with himself.

But… even if Bruce was Batman, he couldn't be as violent. If he was as violent, then there was no way that he could have a kid, much less two. There was definitely no way those kids would love Bruce enough to call out to him while scared and injured; no way they would love Bruce at all if he was as violent as Thomas was. Although the scars did speak against Bruce… While many of them were from the last few months, from within the last month even, not all of them were. Hopefully, the kids were telling the truth about those coming from kidnappers.

No, there was something different going on here, and Thomas aimed to get to the root of it. Maybe the kids were from a different time or place. That would certainly explain the portal they came through, and the disorientation when they landed.

"Not-Batman?" A tentative voice brought him back to the present, and he turned to see the little one holding an open, half-empty bottle of beer. How did he even get his hands on that?!

"This stuff tastes funny. I don't feel so good."


	33. Condolences

Chapter 30: Condolences

Alex followed the crowd of kids trailing out of the batplane. He had made eye contact with Batman during the journey, and Batman had given him a look that said "we'll talk later." Or at least, that was what it seemed to mean. Dick had made the same gesture before when meaning that, so he would assume it was the same for both people, but they could have different meanings for the same gesture based on the person. Batman could have conveyed disappointment. He was at the back of the line, dragging his feet, as they entered the embassy complex.

There were kids everywhere, some looking healthier than others. He had wanted to stay and see if they weren't wrong. He wanted proof that Richard and Damian were either dead or alive. Red Arrow had gently nudged him into the batplane, telling him that he would be more helpful calming the younger kids at the embassy and checking through his book to see who had been rescued and who was still missing and most likely dead. They had it handled here. Red Arrow had taken over for Miss Martian an hour after the building collapsed as she was needed to help find those buried beneath. That had been weird because Dick had only briefly mentioned Roy had a clone, who was also pretty badass, after Original Roy had died. Turns out, all Roys seemed to have a soft spot for little birds, but were smart enough and strong enough to work around that soft spot.

All the kids were sent through the nurse station to be checked for any urgent matters before being passed to the Leaguers who were recording everyone's name and personal information to search for parents. Alex would join them with his book once he was cleared, but the lines were long. They had gotten several out of town doctors for the emergency, but it still was going slow as they tried to be as thorough as possible Apparently, the crisis had somehow avoided the news so far. He imagined the reporters would flock in soon, especially with practically the whole league here, besides the ones holding the fort around the world. Every kid with white hair was being pulled aside and sent into another room for increased scrunity. Alex wondered how they knew. Roy had clued him in about the worry, but admonished him not to tell Dick or Damian about the danger. There was nothing the two could do about it after all.

Alex was cleared within five minutes. He only had some mild scrapes from dropping to the ground outside the building, and even those were small enough to not merit band-aids. They gave him a small thing of hot cocoa for the shock, after checking for allergies, and then sent him on to the personal information station.

"H-hi." He said to Black Canary when it was his turn to approach. Without waiting for her to respond, he ploughed on. "Red Arrow told me to give you this." He hesitantly held out the leather bound book that he had held so protectively. "I-I've been gathering all the names of the kids that I could ac-access without the Bluemen noticing, and getting them to sign the book for evidence." He chewed his lip. "I thought… I thought maybe we could take attendance with it?"

"ALEX!" He heard. Alex snapped his head around and barely got a glimpse of warning before a boy his same height hit him like a missile and wrapped his arms around the surprised younger teenager.. Alex staggered under the impact, but kept his grip on the book.

"Ch-Charlie?"

"Mm-hmm." The boy nodded against him.

"CHARLIE!" Alex hugged him back fiercely. "You- you made it!"

"I did! Well, we did. 65 of us made it here."

"65? They said 83 escaped… but I know some people got caught?"

"Yeah. Well, it's a really long story." Black Canary cleared her throat. "Oh." Charlie blushed. "Umm."

"May I see that?" She asked, gesturing to the book.

"Oh. Right!" Alex said, handing her the book. "Umm. My name is Alex. Alexander Anderson. A-N-D-E-R-son I… I don't have any family except an older sister somewhere, but

I don't know where. I'm 15. Birthday: April 28th, 1997."

"That makes you 16, sweetie. Today's May 8th."

"It is?"

She nodded absently as she input his information and glanced through the book. She stopped on a page, and her eyes seemed to almost brighten a bit, and then dim. Alex glanced at the page she was looking at and felt his heart sink as he saw Richard's curly, slightly shaky signature swerving across the page. She shut the book. "You should probably give this to Batman. He'll know what to do with it."

"He's… he's busy." She nodded understandingly.

"Then give it to Flash or Blue Jay, and then go to the food station and get something to eat and drink. I'm sure you're hungry. After that, I recommend you catch up with your friend or find other people to talk to." Alex nodded, and slashed an arm at the tears threatening his eyes. He took the book back. They stepped out of the way.

"Here. I'll show you where to go. Flash has been coming in and out, but Blue Jay has been hanging out near the food station and making sure everyone gets something to eat and drink." Alex nodded. Charlie looked around. "But first, where are the pipsqueaks and Roy? We might as well wait for them."

Alex froze. "Charlie-." He said softly. Charlie met his gaze, with desperate hope shining in brown eyes. "Charlie, we're the only ones who made it." Charlie's eyes dimmed and he looked down.

"I…" He started. "I don't want to believe that. Roy said… He said to take care of them, but…" He took a deep breath. "How?"

"I don't know exactly. Well, I know how Roy died, but Dick and Damian… They didn't make it out before the building collapsed. I…" He paused and reflected that he couldn't tell Charlie exactly how he knew that Dick, at least, was dead, without revealing things like Dick having close ties to the Justice League. He would rather be closer to Batman's good side than bad. "I don't think they survived."

Charlie sucked in a breath and then nodded. "I… I had a feeling. Roy?"

"Died within an hour of the escape. Jumped in front of a gun aimed at Dick."

"Can… can you tell me what I missed?" Alex nodded.

"Yeah. Let me give this to Blue Jay, whoever that is, and then I'll tell you the whole story, if you'll tell me yours."

"Oh. That's Robin's new name. Apparently, he's been going through a phase lately."

"Robin?"

"Yeah. Kid Flash told me when I asked."

'He might want to hear this too.' Alex thought. Out loud, he said, "Well. Lead the way."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alex took a deep breath to calm his nerves as Batman led him into a small soundproofed room, and then turned and locked the door behind them. It had been three days since the rescue, and he supposed this was the first chance Batman had to question him privately. The Justice League had been working hard to protect the large group of kids, getting them what they needed, helping with security, and getting them home. Then, there was the continued efforts to excavate the destroyed building, to find anyone still in there. At this point, they were looking for corpses. A bout of rain two days ago may have given anyone trapped some much needed water… or it might have drowned them.

Besides the copse of kids who had formed a haven in the Target Dump, apparently mostly through Alex's missing roommates' efforts, three other kids had been found in the basement levels. Two of them had been protected by a female blueman who had apparently shoved them into a vault of some sort, leaving the door open so they didn't suffocate, and shielded them from the blast.

An additional thirty kids on the upper levels had been rescued by the Justice Leaguers still in the building when the bomb went off. Green Lantern alone had been responsible for 20 of those as he had rescued 8 kids on the upper floors and had been leading them down when he had found that two of the larger dorm rooms had gotten trapped by the initial fire. He barely managed to get a shield around the kids when the bombs went off. Superman had five kids cling to him as he shielded them to the best of his ability while Wonder Woman had three and Red Tornado two. The only reason Alex knew that much detail was because Blue Jay had taken to dragging his main source of information on his brothers around when he didn't have anything better to do.

It was astounding how many kids the Bluemen had been able to collect in the time since the escape. The estimate was at almost 200 kids rescued in addition to the 65 who had made it to the embassy. The arm numbers were into the upper 400s, which were daunting.

Batman sighed, bringing Alex back to his current situation. If he hadn't known that this was Dick and Damian's father, Batman sighing probably would have freaked him out. After all, he was Batman.

"Alexander Anderson?" Batman clarified, stating more than asking. Alex assumed he had already did an intense look for recording or transmitting devices, like Dick did as a habit.

"That's me."

"Miss Martian told me that you approached her about Robin being in the building."

"Well, he wasn't really Robin at the time, but yes."

Batman seemed to sigh again. "How much did my son tell you?"

Alex took his turn to sigh. He pushed himself up onto the table and dangled his legs. After a moment of staring at his hands, he looked up and met Batman's eyes. "Not everything, but enough. And which son are you speaking of?"

"What do you mean 'which son'?"

Alex looked around. "Is this room secure?" Batman opened his mouth to response. "Right. Stupid question." He wiped his hands on the new pants he'd received from donations. "We wouldn't be having this conversation here if it, if it wasn't." He looked up at Batman. "Did he, did he manage to tell you before the building blew? I know he would have prioritized it, but maybe, maybe he didn't want to? Mio dio, I never wanted to have this conversation. I mean. I-I knew it was a possibility. We all did, but I couldn't. I didn't." Alex felt a hand on his shoulder. He hadn't even realized his eyes had been darting all over the place, and he had been shaking. Batman knelt down in front of him and met Alex's watery brown eyes with clouded, emotionless white lenses.

"Calm down." Batman said, placing his other hand on Alex's other shoulder to ground him. Alex took a moment to steady his breathing.

"I'm, I'm sorry. You must think I'm pathetic." Alex wiped his eyes.

Batman was silent, and then, "My son obviously thought highly enough of you to trust you. Start from the beginning."

Alex gave a barklike laugh. Dick had said Batman would want the full story. "Well, I was taken from the streets. Italy. I'm Australian by birth, but grew up there from 8. My parents, we were on vacation when they died, and I got separated from my older sister, Anita. She'd be 20 something now. I put up a fight, managed to hurt one of the guys who grabbed me, so they declared me 'special order.'" He paused. "That's what all three of us were. Me, Dick, and Damian. I don't know how Damian got it. He never said and I don't think they ever figured out who his parents were, unless they picked up how close he was to Dick. Dick would have gotten the status from being a billionaire's son, your son."

He looked up and met Batman's lenses again. "If, if it's all the same, it's your choice really, I'd prefer to tell this to you as Bruce Wayne, as the man Dick saw as a father." Alex looked more towards his mouth as he ploughed on. "He didn't betray you, Dick that is. Damian didn't understand how important secret identities are, and his mother had told him who you were. I knew Dick was a fan of Batman, before I knew, I mean. They kept taking him away to experiment on him and I wanted to make him feel better so I painted Batman, you, on one of the walls. Dick wasn't there, but Damian was, and he asked, he asked me 'why are you painting my father?'" He said with a laugh.

"And I got so confused and told him I was painting Batman and, and that's how we found out Damian was your son, and how I found out your secret identity. I figured out Dick's a few minutes later. I said that Dick could talk to you and you could introduce Damian to Batman and he got confused and I got confused, and it all came out. I, umm, I accidentally taught him a curse word or two that day. Dick wasn't pleased. His, Damian's mother is Talia al Ghul." Alex could have sworn he saw Batman jolt in surprise. "Dick and I both came to an agreement that she was a… actually I'm not sure I should repeat that to you… But, we agreed he would never return to her, if we could help it… This was not what we had in mind."

Alex took another fortifying breath. To his surprise, Batman released his shoulders, and slowly removed the cowl to reveal the face of Bruce Wayne, grieving father. The man looked as if he hadn't slept in months, at least not well. His eyes were bloodshot with circles underneath, and his hair, while gelled back to stay in place under the cowl had strands poking out in random places. Alex smothered a laugh as a sudden thought popped into his mind.

"Something funny?" Bruce Wayne narrowed his eyes into a glare that Alex was sadly well acquainted with, if he was used to seeing it on two different people.

"I'm sorry, sir. Da-Damian was convinced you were black eye makeup under his eyes and I don't think Dick tried very hard to convince him otherwise." He took a deep breath and met Bruce's blue eyes. Damian hadn't quite inherited those. The four year old's eyes had tended towards green at times and blue other times, often taking an in between shade. "Thank you, Mr. Wayne."

"My son?" Bruce asked, and Alex could have sworn the man shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny Alex had subconsciously put him under. "My sons?" Bruce corrected, before Alex could.

"Right. They came in the same time as me, but needed more time to recover. The Bluemen, they don't treat Special Order kids the same. We don't see the light of day for a good month minimum from our kidnapping, by their policy as far as I can tell. They dumped us in this room in the basement. We called it the Target Dump because so many Special Order kids were targeted. I heard that was where they made the fort. Everyone who is Special Order before getting there goes through an ordeal and we need major healing. Dick, Dick had it worse than anyone. He was practically a skeleton when we arrived, and he never fully recovered from that, as far as I could tell.

"There were five us when I became… aware… so to speak of where I was. One of the other kids with us didn't make it through the week. It was scary. I, I was the first one out and got put in a room with three beds. Dick joined me two weeks later and Damian came a week and a half after that. He would have come sooner, but he was allergic to some medicine they gave him and got a bad fever.

"I kept the book from the beginning. I managed to smuggle it from a classroom. Turns out, it had been hidden there by someone who had died, Scout. Her name is on the front cover. I got everyone to sign it personally, and did numbers to figure out who was missing. A lot of kids were already dead, and some friends filled in names or nicknames the best they could. I thought it would be good for evidence, and it looks like it is.

"After we got out of the Target Dump, they gave us the night to adjust to our new room, and then took us for tests the next morning. I think they did it similarly to the Regular kids, but I can't attest to that. They tattooed Special Order kids a few days before we left the Target Dump. The tests determined what class we went into. They actually gave us a pretty decent education while we were there, as contradictory as it seems. We even had homework sometimes and got rewards for good behavior. I got some good art supplies from them."

"Did Dick get anything?"

"Well, in the beginning, he barely talked, and, from what I understand, was pretty reluctant and rebellious in turn with anything they gave him, but he managed to get almost enough supplies to make an excellent stuffed animal for Damian, so he must have done something for that. The rest of the time, we were used in experiments," Bruce flinched. Alex ignored it. "So that affected him later on."

"What did they do to him?"

"I don't know for sure. He wouldn't talk about it, but Damian started going with him towards the end and he spent the last week or so crying about animals and swirly lights of doom. I don't know what that was about."

"Swirly lights of doom." Bruce muttered. "Did Dick have a backup plan? A way to get out if all else failed?"

Alex blinked. "No. I imagine he would have said something or used it to get Damian out if he did. Or incorporated it into the Escape Plot. The one that got the other kids here."

Bruce nodded. "Charlie told me you were involved in that. Tell me about it."

Alex took a deep breath before launching into that fiasco.

At the end, he could practically feel the concealed pride beneath the overwhelming grief dropping off Bruce Wayne in waves.

"That's my boy." He whispered. He shook himself after a minute. "What experiment did they do on you?"

Alex fidgeted. "I'm not sure, really. I got a lot of injections, but they didn't really seem to have an effect. Honestly, I think the Bluemen were disappointed in me. I was sort of a dud."

Bruce eyed him. "Maybe." He said.

"No, really. I got lucky. Dick got the short end of the deal. He." Alex cut himself off.

"He?" Bruce narrowed his eyes.

Alex slowly exhaled, rubbing his hands down his legs. The new pants were really comfy. "He… The experiment he was in. There were rumors of an experiment that turned your hair white. It was one of the bigger ones in that a ton of kids were fed into it. Dick's hair started turning white shortly after I found out about, well, you. Honestly, it might have been a little white that day. I didn't think anything of it at first… Then Roy, did Charlie tell you about him?"

Bruce nodded.

"Right, well, Roy clued me in. He asked me not to tell Dick and Damian, and tried to push forward our timeline for the Escape Plot. I agreed because, well, how do you tell someone they're living on borrowed time?"

"So… my son might have died soon even if we got him out."

Alex hesitantly nodded.

"Yes. But, he kept living and I kind of just, pushed it to the back of my mind because I didn't want to deal with it. Then he disappeared, three days before you rescued us. I, I thought he was dead and that Damian had followed him because they didn't need a baby anymore. I think he was only really used for leverage after the Escape Plot."

"How old was Damian?"

"Four."

"They experimented on him?"

"Yes, but I don't think they did so too intensely. He was the youngest I know of."

Bruce nodded, and looked deep in thought.

There was silence for a few minutes.

"Do you know who came up with the title of 'Bluemen?'"

"Heh. It was Damian. He called them something in Arabic that translated to 'Blue men.' Dick thought it was hilarious, and before I knew what was happening, it had spread around to everybody. It was pretty early on."

Bruce nodded, and then suddenly tilted his head listening to something. He stood up abruptly pulling the cowl on. Alex watched him as he headed for the door. Batman paused with his hand on the handle. "Thank you. Alexander. We will search for your sister."

Alex nodded as Batman left, stalking off to wherever he was needed, and then slumped with a sigh. That had been hard, and he wished it hadn't been necessary. On top of that, Alex knew that he would try to keep in contact with the Bat, or at least with Jason. He was the last person to really know Dick, and the only person they could talk to about Damian.

Maybe they could find his sister though. He hoped she would take him in. He didn't really want to live in the streets anymore and he didn't think Mr. Wayne could take him in, even if the man wanted too. Alex was too old and it wasn't that easy. Plus, he would be a constant reminder of the sons he lost. Bruce Wayne didn't need that, and neither did Jason. Why was he even thinking of this? They would find Anita. They had to…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It's not your fault, you know."

Wally's head popped up to see Dick's roommate leaning against the doorframe. Alex Anderson, an orphan originally from Australia, but apparently grew up on the streets of Italy. Batman was working on finding his sister, but Wally had the feeling that was at the bottom of his to do list. Not just priority wise either. Wally thought he might be deliberately stalling. Alex was one of the last kids remaining. Nearly a month after locating the kids, most of the homeless and guardian-less had been transferred to hospitals or group homes to heal and find a new home. Over half the rescued had been escorted home to loving families, with a few pulled back when the family turned out to be not so loving. Wally had personally witnessed many tearful reunions, and felt his heart sink with each one.

"What are you talking about?" He asked.

"Dick dying. It's not your fault."

"How-?"

"Dick told me about you. His best friend. He didn't say you were Kid Flash, he was really careful about that. It doesn't take much to figure it out knowing what I do, but, to your credit, I only really put two and two together last week, when I realized how close you were to Artemis."

"Artemis?"

"Yeah. Dick asked about her the first day I met him. He was afraid they got her too, and went on about how his best friend Wally would fall apart if they were both gone."

"Oh."

Alex shifted. "Look, I've seen people in mourning before, especially kids who lost their best friends. It's not your fault."

"He died after we got there! If we'd just been faster…"

"No. Logarithm would have shot him in the head if he'd had the time. The second you entered the building, in fact, if he'd been near him. As it was, he only had enough time to get as many of us as he could and run for it. He was happy leaving Dick trapped downstairs. I heard that the Bluemen had express orders to make sure he didn't make it on the bus. If he'd made it outside, you would have been perfectly on time."

"But, if we'd known he'd been down there…"

"You would have been slowed by the door, and you know he would have demanded that he take him last. That's just how he was."

"But Superman-"

"Could have disabled the structure further and brought the roof down killing everyone. You can only go so fast with passengers, I imagine."

Wally was silent.

"You wouldn't have had enough time to get everyone out safely. Nothing you could have done would have saved everyone. Maybe there was a way to save Dick, but only the kids downstairs knew where he and Damian were.

"You all did the best you could. They were ready for you."

**END PART ONE**


	34. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The crowd of people ebbed and flowed as people moved to their seats on benches placed upon the lawn. They sat shoulder to shoulder, so little room between them that the size of the person made a huge difference to the amount of seat a person was allotted. Like sardines, or seats on an airplane, thousands of parents, friends, and VIPs settled in next to each other. Many children, dark numbers marring their arms, were held closely in their parents' arms, sat on parents' or family's laps, or were surrounded by siblings who were afraid to look too far away. Even more children sat together, no family yet found to but refusing to miss a chance to remember the unofficial family who had been less fortunate, who succumbed to the fate they had narrowly escaped.

All attendees were garbed almost entirely in black and white or as close to black and white as they could get in the heat of summer: black dresses, black shirts, or white shirts under a black jacket, black pants, black or white socks, black tights, black veils, black yamachas, white hijabs, black schmatas, black gloves, black and white ribbons, black heels, black dress shoes, and even some black sneakers. Circles lay under many different pairs of eyes, and no one was smiling, not a real smile anyway. It didn't matter who they were or where they came from. Everyone was there for the same reason. Everyone wished that that reason had not come so early, so soon.

As the crowd settled down into their seats and waited for the service to begin, a lone man mounted the stage, and took a position at the podium. His demeanor slouched and his blue eyes were downcast. Dark circles lay under his eyes as well as he lifted them to view the crowd. It was by this man's efforts that everyone was gathered here specifically on the ironically sunny, hot August day. The man straightened in front of the podium and waited as everyone focused their attention on him.

"Hello." Bruce Wayne spoke to the crowd. "You all know why we are here today. To mourn and honor the children who had been taken from the world too young and too early. To honor brothers and sisters, daughters and sons," His voice almost broke on the last word. "To honor cousins, nieces, and nephews. To honor friends. All precious people now lost to us. Victims to a plot they should have never been even considered for.

"Two hundred and eighty six of these victims were returned home or to foster homes. Fifty two of that number were rescued on route. However, nearly one hundred and three known victims and an estimate of two hundred more unknown, were slaughtered by these beasts. The numbers alone are astronomical, but they don't tell the whole story. They don't tell of the fear that gripped a parent's heart when they turned around and their child was gone or the way that fear increased as more time went by.

"The numbers don't tell of the way your heart sinks when you realize you may never get your child back, or the way that turns into near certainty. They don't tell as the possibilities bounce around in your mind and begin to cement until you have trouble even thinking of your son or daughter, your family or your friend, without thinking of tortures they're going through. Until you can't think of good memories without pain.

"Most of all, the numbers don't tell you of the effect the ordeal will have on your child, how, even if you do get them back alive, your family, both official and unofficial, will be forever changed. How any information of what happened to your child can bring an ounce of comfort, even if it's not the information you want to hear, because at least you know."

Bruce paused here, obviously taking a moment to calm himself. A couple tears had slipped out of his eyes and he needed to keep them in for now. "At least you know. And none of us may have ever known or ever seen our children again if some of those children hadn't been incredibly brave and acted as heroes, both seen and unseen. 65 children made it to a Belgian embassy. As we later learned, more than that escaped but were recaptured before they had gotten far. Many have heard in the last few months of Charlie Destin and Francine Nichols, the two leaders who organized the escapees to reduce the number of people lost with a council to keep things equal between groups.

"Some have heard about how my son Richard Grayson-Wayne deactivated six bombs in less than ten minutes with the help of Daniel "Dibble" Smith to create a safe zone underground when the Bluemen decided to destroy the building including the children still trapped inside, saving the lives of twenty seven kids, but unfortunately not his own life or that of his youngest brother Damian as they were trapped when part of the ceiling collapsed.

"Who people have not heard of is Alexander Anderson, who managed to hide a journal that he had every victim he could find sign for proof that they had been there. A journal that allowed us to know who was still missing, and many who were confirmed deceased. People have not heard of a young Roy Harper, who masterminded the escape plot with the aid of Richard, Charlie, and Alexander, and provided the distraction that allowed Richard to take down the security with little Damian as a lookout while Alexander and Charlie got everyone out and gathered necessary supplies to survive.

"And there are more, Anastasia Jennings rescued three children from a bear on the hike to civilization. Alby Tennyson started a food fight at one point so that Nichi Li could get ahold of cough syrup to soothe a younger peer's cold. Nicole Reed stabbed a Blueman to stop him from hurting one of her roommates that she barely knew. Many more are remembered, but their names are unknown.

"In this time of grief and sorrow, it is our job to remember the many who suffered and the many who still do. It is our job to see that justice is given and that the victims receive the proper help. It is our job to remember the heroes amongst them, the children who stood up when they could, and the ones who were could not, the ones who focused their energy on surviving their trials, as hard as they were.

Bruce stepped back and pulled the cloth off the memorial, revealing a beautiful obsidian memorial with all the names of the known victims and room to put in any that they found later carved into the sides. In large letters, it proclaimed 'Andoxly Memorial'. Right below that, it stated in slightly smaller letters, 'For The Children Saved And The Children Lost To Stay Whelmed In An Overwhelming World.' Surrounding the memorial were the names of other children lost to related and unrelated human trafficking.

"This memorial is dedicated to the children and families affected by the experiments and human trafficking. The ones we've found, and the ones we haven't.

"Thank you."

With those words, Bruce stepped aside for other parents, starting with planned speakers, to take the stage and address the crowd. He ignored the applause as he slipped off the stage and into the front row where Jason and Alfred had saved him a seat. He wrapped an arm around his remaining son and allowed the rest of his tears to fall now that he was no longer in the spotlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading The Medium Between.  
> The jury is in and Inkblackfingers (my beta) and I have decided to post the first chapter of the sequel, currently known as The Wrong Batcave, unless a better name is found, on OCTOBER 31ST, 2016 on fanfiction.net. Chapters will eventually make it over here, but they will be posted on ff.net first. There are also deleted scenes currently on ff.net that will also eventually make it over here.


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